Improper Guardian
Chapter Eighteen
By: Brenli
It felt like hours before Nema had to collapse. She ducked into what seemed to be a leftover crate and curled up there, throwing Michael's shirt over her like a shawl, catching her breath. This whole business of running away really was harder than it looked. She had been fortunate enough to sprint into a dark alleyway, and now, she was reduced to these dark alleyways, hoping that they would continue to form some kind of maze that she could allow herself to get lost in.
Once again the hopelessness nibbled at the back of her head. She didn't exactly have this intuitive knowledge about Heaven. Where would she ever find another I-Child? How could she find them? She had a much better chance of being caught by Cheriour and his Hunters than of ever reaching the people she wanted to get into contact with.
And yet, she couldn't turn back. She'd thrust herself into this mess and she could only run with it. The cold, hard reality was that now, she was in no sanctuary. No cups of tea from Doll and no warm bed supplied by Uriel. She was no longer living a life in Assiah, either, which had its own luxuries, like parents, and for a time, even Michael. Now, none of these things were hers. She would stay in the shadows of Heaven, now… She would sleep in cardboard boxes and crates. Michael's shirt would be her only blanket. And she would have no food, unless she dared to dig through garbage and waste, and dared to eat things spoiled.
Well, Nema would put up with it, then, if she needed to. How many others like her had been more or less forced to endure that kind of life? And it was worse now… How many were dying right now? How many were…
"RUUUUUUN!"
"Get them! Get them BOTH!"
"Please… spare him! He's only five!" The pleading tones of a mother could be heard, along with the pitter patter of feet coming in her direction. Nema looked up to see that a young boy with his own set of a striking red eyes and pale skin was scrambling right for her. She watched him take one of the garbage cans and move it in front of the open part of the crate as he flung himself inside, somehow unaware that there was another person under the lump of black cloth she must have looked like.
Then the poor young boy was slapping at the lump she was, and she pulled Michael's black shirt away from her face.
"… Whoa, who are you?" The boy's red eyes seemed to glow as they widened.
Whoa? Why, whoa? No time for that now. Somewhere near them were Rabbit Hunters, and he was being loud! "Shhh!" Nema clamped a hand over the boy's mouth.
"Where did that Rabbit brat go?" A Hunter hissed, coming around the corner. Nema could see through just the tiniest of slits which the garbage can did not sufficiently cover. He stood tall and proud in his dark cloak, and then behind him another Hunter kicked to the ground another I-Child, obviously the boy's mother, judging from the "mm mm!" that left the boy's covered mouth.
"Leave my son out of this!" The mother shouted.
"Your son…" The second Hunter hissed, "Rabbits breeding Rabbits! What a disgusting world we're in."
"That brat is hiding somewhere… Well, we'll just do away with her, then. You, Rabbit Girl! Your wings."
The mother's red eyes widened and filled with tears as the first Hunter took out a short sword. "… God, no! Not that…!"
"God is not on your side!" The second Hunter hissed. "Now, your wings! Or we can take it the slow way… and show your hiding son where Rabbits come from!"
The mother sobbed and brought out her black wings, and the first Hunter laughed with the second as they pulled them back…
"Shit!" They cried, as Nema exploded from her hiding spot and rushed at them, her red eyes flashing in rage as she tackled the first Hunter and began twisting his short sword out of his hand. The second Hunter seemed nervous and was trying restrain the mother while taking out a gun, but the boy had rushed forth, too, wrestling the gun away from slippery, nervous fingers.
"What is this, a death wish? You fucking Rabbit, your bravery is for nothing!" The first Hunter snarled evilly, while Nema continued to twist the short sword out of his possession. His fingers were tugging on her hair, but she ignored the pain and kept trying to make the sword slip.
And then she heard it. A gun shot, a loud scream, a thud belonging to a dead body, and another thud belonging to the little boy as the recoil sent him back onto the ground. "Oh, honey, are you okay?" The mother rushed after her son, and Nema finally gained possession of the short sword. The first Hunter was reaching for his long sword, but Nema got to him before he even touched the handle.
It was tougher than it looked, stabbing someone through the heart. There could have been a number of factors… a dull blade… Nema not stabbing in the softest area… general inexperience and the urgency of the situation… but she did it. Her very first murder.
Nema watched with wide, red eyes as the life flowed out of rich golden-brown ones… golden-brown eyes that must have seen her before, because they narrowed, and the last words to leave him were, "Michael's… girl…"
"What's that racket?" A voice could be heard. No time for reflecting on what she'd done. Apparently the boy was okay. No time for chit chat. No time for anything except running.
"Come on, we've gotta go!" Nema cried, as she pushed the dead first Hunter down to join the second. Her pale hands pushed the mother and child forward, and off they sprinted, Nema following them, hoping they knew where they were going.
"THREE! A PACK OF THREE! HURRY, AFTER THEM!" One, two, no, three Hunters, one for each runaway Rabbit, began pursuing them with swords raised. Nema looked over her shoulder at them and began pushing the mother and child more desperately, but neither seemed to have the gift of swiftness.
"Do you know where you're going?" Nema asked the mother.
"Yes, we'll be safe soon!" The mother cried, scooping her little son into her arms. His eyes were still wide and afraid, and the gun was still in his hand.
"Little boy, give me the gun!" Nema stole the gun from the petrified boy's grasp and began to aim and fire.
She wasn't a very good shot, mostly because the recoil kept sending her arm up. She'd spent some time with a sword by now, but next to none with a firearm. She shot once, twice, and missed. The third time she hit one pursuer in the thigh. And the fourth she got lucky and hit another in the head.
The fifth time nothing happened. She was out of ammo.
Nema growled and tossed the gun aside, nearly tripping over herself as the mother made a sharp turn left and sprinted. She rushed after them, and it seemed they had disappeared… into a wall?
Then she realized that there was a hole near the bottom of the building, and the mother and son had smoothly slipped down, as though they were accustomed to these types in entryways.
"Hurry! In here!" The mother cried, holding out her white hand.
But all around her were voices, now. The Hunter that had lived through Nema's desperate gunshots had called together more than one group, and they were all advancing quick. She could make it… but not without giving them away.
Where were they going? Would there be many more wherever they were planning on hiding? She couldn't put them all at risk.
She had to set herself up.
"I can't." Nema shook her head, her ivory strands of hair swaying about her.
"Yes you can, please hur –" The mother cried out as the Hunter who had survived the gunfire pounced on Nema, trying to throw her down under his weight.
"You think you can get away so easy, Rabbit?" The Hunter sneered. "We'll rip you to shreds, turn you into fertilizer!"
Nema spat up at him and struggled to come to a stand, her wrists locked in his death grip.
The Hunter merely laughed. "Here they all come, now… and we will make sure each one of our swords cuts away your disgusting, ghostly flesh!"
Nema ignored the threats and tried to wave off the mother and son. "Leave, please leave!"
"No!" The little boy shouted, and the mother had to hold him tight lest he try to run out.
The voices were growing louder now, but nothing overtook the sound of Nema's quickening heartbeat. Was it the end already? Was there really no hope? Was there…
"…WHOA!" The boy said, half in fear and half in awe.
Nema watched the headless body of the Hunter slide to the ground, and Nema shook off the grip on her wrists before they could stiffen and trap her. She'd made his head explode. … She'd almost forgotten she could do that.
She stood there, bathed in blood, as the voices of her pursuers grew still louder. "You need to go. I swear I'll be fine." The words left her mouth breathlessly.
The mother, wide-eyed, nodded and began to pull her son away with her, but he fought to stay, and asked one small question. "What's your name?"
The question was common, simple, friendly. It made Nema smile through the bloody mask she now wore. "Nema. Now run!"
Just like that, they were gone, and Nema already missed them, though she had barely gotten acquainted with them. But there was no time to long for them; she had to do something about this body, or at least find a way divert the attentions of the next batch of pursuers.
… Well, she wasn't about to carry the body off. Making the whole body rupture would still leave a puddle of blood.
Fine, she'd make a victim out of herself. Nema dared to fly up, up high above the crowded buildings, her dark wings spread wide in a reckless display.
It worked like magic. Upon sight of her black feathers, as many as ten Hunters spread their white wings and flew up to join her.
She wasn't going to waste any time allowing them to catch up. She turned and sped off, flying who knows where… all that mattered was that she flew somewhere far from that little boy and his mother.
The Hunters were throwing insults and threats at her like they would somehow shoot her down, but she ignored the verbal attacks, and began searching for a place she could get lost in. Building after building… dark alleyways… but how much better if she could find some kind of forest to get lost in!
Eventually they realized that their words didn't make good weapons, nor did they grant them speed. Someone began firing a gun at her. Nema felt a bullet rush through the dark feathers of her left wing, and began flapping more urgently, and then she heard one of them talking, not to her, but to someone else, over a phone of sorts.
"Yes, sir, we are! Yes, ten of us! … You don't understand, sir, it's – But, sir! … Toward the Fields… NANI? But, sir, it's – Sir! Sir? Ah, dammit!" A Hunter cursed under his breath. "There are nine Hunters too many. Fall back, she's mine!"
Nine Hunters too many, huh? Since when was Cheriour merciful? Nema couldn't help but grin to herself, especially when she noticed that they were now soaring over an open field. Grass! Maybe she might actually find a forest to get lost in! And that had just been wishful thinking!
Oh goodness, what luck! The field was giving way to, believe it or not, a smudge of trees that looked as though they were forming a long, thick line. A barrier to a place? Didn't matter, she dived right in, feeling the scratchy twigs attempt to trap her large black wings.
"You think you're smart because you're hiding in foliage?" The Hunter behind her scoffed. He sounded so much closer than before, now, so Nema willed away her dark wings and allowed herself to fall onto the thick branches of a tree. "I can still HEAR you, brainless Rabbit!" He was close enough even for Nema to hear the ringing of his phone, now, but she dared not turn around, and she slid down from one branch to the next, and flung herself in the next tree. "What the Hell is it now?" The Hunter sighed and continued pursuing Nema. "… WHAT? Sir, I'm right on her tail! It's – Sir, let me finish, it's – No, no, sir! … Yes, sir…" And then she heard the Hunter growl, and she dropped to the ground. "You got lucky, fucking Rabbit! The next time I see you, I WILL kill you. Till then, have fun HERE, Rabbit Girl!"
Have fun? Whatever. Nema was just glad he was gone. Her knees gave out and she flopped to the ground, covered in blood, leaves, and twigs. She struggled to catch her breath as she continued to lie there, sure that she passed off beautifully for a dying person at this moment. How many miles had she flown or ran by now? And did all the other I-Children have to run this much every day?
Nema would have liked to curl up on the ground and sleep for a while, but a smell made its way to her pale nose. It was a sweet scent, but by no means was it pleasant. It made her think of rotten fruit, yet it had a distinctly different sharpness to it.
She realized she was smelling death. She was afraid to reopen her blood-red eyes. She neither wanted nor needed to see what was, perhaps, just before her.
And then she heard two voices straining together in anger. Two people clearly arguing somewhere in this death-scented place. Still, Nema shut her eyes, pretending it was she herself that was dead.
It was then that a gun shot pierced the air, and Nema jumped in natural fear. At last her eyes were open.
Oh God, she wanted to close them again, she wanted to close them again! How many were there in this blood-soaked field…? Crosses, crudely nailed crosses, each adorned with an I-Child! Cheriour's men hadn't even taken the time to properly push the crosses into the ground; so many were at odd angles, and some had even fallen over.
Nema pressed her pale hands over her trembling mouth and slowly progressed through the field with wide, scared, disgusted red eyes. Each I-Child was heavily lashed with whips if they were not already cut open. A sad-eyed little boy was strung up on his cross with barbed wire, clearly gutted as though he were nothing more than an albino fish. His entrails were left on the ground before him, and birds pecked cruelly at them, and in his death he stared, longingly, as though if he did that long enough, he'd get them back.
Nema choked on carefully restrained tears and rushed at the birds, watching them fly off with their white wings. Never before had white wings looked so ugly to her… and there they were, attached to apathetic birds leaving a wide buffet.
She felt like vomiting, she really did, as she passed more bodies, some nailed, some tied, one hung, some missing limbs, two missing heads, one missing a face, and almost all of them missing their wings.
Nema's black boots came up on the crest of a blood-soaked hill, and she finally saw what the commotion was. A woman was on her knees before another rough cross, and a man struggled to pry from her hands a gun that she fired off for a second time. "My baby!" She sobbed wildly, and Nema looked up at the cross to see a little girl. She was six, at most, strung up with rope, though she had all the stigmatic marks of Cheriour's crucifixions. She was, like many, lashed with whips, and she was missing one eye.
Nema was amazed to notice that this eye was not red, like her own, or like many of the I-Children she had come across. This eye was a beautiful, deep shade of violet, and though it seemed to lack the ability to focus as she died, it sparkled.
She also noticed that the man caught in the struggle had peculiar hair. It was stylishly cut, angling from the nape of his neck down to brush his collar bone, but it was unkempt. Nema couldn't really blame him for leaving it in such a mess. She probably didn't look so snazzy today, either. But the truly intriguing part of his hair was that the very top of his head was black, as though a whole top layer defied the usual genetics awarded to I-Children. The rest of his hair was white.
"Stop it!" This man said harshly as he maintained a tight grip on the woman's hands.
"Leave me alone, Rujiel…!" The woman sobbed. "Please let me take care of my poor baby!"
"By killing her? You'll make her a ghoul?"
"THERE IS NOTHING LEFT FOR HER BUT TO BECOME A GHOUL!" The woman sobbed. "Don't you see that there is no hope for my little baby? Let me end it all!"
And the girl began to speak brokenly. "… Mama…"
"It's okay, baby… Mama's gonna make it better…!" She fired the gun twice, the bullets whizzing off into the air. "RUJIEL!" The tormented woman cried. "LET GO!"
"Stop it."
The three I-Children looked up to see, standing before them… some kind of strange vision. She was an I-Child, plain to see, but she was clothed as though she had come from a much better place than any of them could have imagined. She was bathed in blood, but it was not her own blood. How odd for any one of their unfortunate kind… and her wings! She dared to walk around in broad daylight with them so widely displayed…? Had she gone plumb mad? Was she even real, this girl, one of their kind, but so clearly removed from their way of life? Was she a vision of the future, when I-Children could spill blood in return, and march in shiny, black boots, like militant kings and queens? A future only the angry and fiery dared to fathom…
"… This isn't your business." The man known as Rujiel said darkly. "And put away your wings; you're not impressing anyone."
It had been a while since Nema had received that kind of attitude from someone she had not considered an enemy, so her narrowed eyes fixated on him. His own pair of red eyes seemed a bit dull compared to hers, as though any light left in him was hiding under layers and layers of cynicism and hopelessness. "… Then excuse me for being nosey…" Nema replied in the same frozen tone, "But you could at least consider that all the gunshots are going to spark the White Wings' attention before my wings ever do."
He must have been a man that wasn't used to being stood up to. His mouth dropped open just the slightest bit before he caught himself and closed it again, glaring at her more harshly. "You think you're clever? We don't need that kind of attitude! We'll see who's so brave when they hang you up, cut off your wings and gut you! We'll see who's so proud!" He made her think of a taller, paler, more mature Michael, with a less fiery heart and a less coarse tongue. "Stop it!" He snarled to the woman he restrained. She had fired off her gun once again.
"I only want to take care of my baby…!" The woman sobbed.
"A mother shouldn't kill her child!" Rujiel snapped.
"Fine!" And the woman dropped the gun and kicked it towards Nema. "Then let her! She's not the mother! I'll bet she's got more of a heart than you do, Rujiel!"
Nema stared down at the gun with wide red eyes, listening to Rujiel stutter and snarl, "… Y-you… I can't believe you're… SERIOUS!" He was suddenly diving toward the gun, and he snatched it up before Nema could even react… But then he stood, five inches taller than her, and handed her the gun. "… Well? She wants you to do it."
"… I thought you were against it. You fought that hard for nothing?"
"I have no idea where YOU come from, but in these parts you get used to fighting for nothing. That's why we give up." Rujiel pressed the gun into her hands. "… So… go now. Before I decide to keep the gun from you."
Nema found that some strange instinct inside of her made her grip the gun, and she turned it over in her pale, blood-smothered hands. Now she had another life to dispose of… and it belonged to one of her kind.
Nema tried her best to ignore the sniffles and sobs that still poured from the poor woman behind her as she walked up to the little one-eyed girl. That shining purple eye gave Nema a long, unfocused stare, and then she asked, "… Are you going to take care of me?"
"… Yes…" Nema said in the smallest whisper; the sound probably lost in the silence of death and this girl's mother's soft crying.
"... You have… a pretty crown… I have a friend with a crown… but it's broken. We are all broken. How are you so pretty?"
"… I really don't think I look so pretty…"
"No, I can tell, if you washed up… you'd look real pretty… I'd be proud to be a Bunny Rabbit if I looked like you…" The little girl's eye blinked at her. "What's your name?"
Nema blinked back the tears than began to build up behind her eyes and bit her lip. "Nema. What's yours?"
"'S not important…" The little girls voice was slurring now, as she got closer to the delusional point of death.
"Of course it's important. Please tell me your name?"
"… 'S Isobelle… Ya spell it with e-l-l-e… Mama liked it 'cause it looks French… She was born in Normandy… But she grew up here…"
The corners of Nema's trembling mouth turned up in a sad, small smile. "That's a pretty name, Isobelle…"
And Isobelle smiled. "But it won't be my name for much longer. I'll give it to you, if you want…"
The innocent, childish question finally helped push two tears down Nema's bloodied face. "No… Nema's good enough for me…" Nema stepped forward and pressed a kiss to Isobelle's forehead. The skin was cold and loose, and it made Nema cry harder. She sniffled and sighed, and then she whispered into Isobelle's ear, "Close your eyes… and think of a place better than Heaven…"
Nema stepped behind Isobelle and pointed the gun at the back of her head.
"Do you see it?"
"Yes…" Isobelle sighed happily.
Nema closed her eyes with the poor little girl. "Tell me, what do you see?"
In spite of all the utter torture this poor young girl had endured, it was only at this moment that little Isobelle could cry, but she did so happily. "I see… a hill. I can see this hill, but it's not red anymore. It's so green… so green… and we're all there, every one of us… and there are no White Wings or Rabbits… because we have white wings, too. And there you are… up at the top, and you aren't covered in blood, and your wings… your wings are white, too…"
Isobelle's mother let out a despairing sob as the gun's final bullet put a stopper on Isobelle's speech. Nema could also feel herself choke on a sob, but she bit her lip, holding back the melancholy groan that wanted to form a wail with this poor mother. Two tears flowed from Nema's ruby eyes, washing away white trails through the blood drying in her pale face.
Though Isobelle's mother sniffled and sobbed, it was eerily silent. Rujiel crouched down beside the mother, one hand splayed over her shoulder, where he lightly rubbed her consolingly. He dared not look up at the newest corpse of the day, and kept his eyes fixated on the patch of soil before him. Dark, brick-red soil. Not red of its own accord, but because every day blood soaked into this patch of earth. Every day a body lay on this inch of dirt. It moved, picked at by those damn white birds, or becoming the next chosen target for a Hunter's afternoon game of "Kick the Can."
A pair of black boots obstructed Rujiel's view of the bloody ground, and he finally looked up. There she was, blood-soaked and oblivious to her role as one of the Hunted, silent tears building up and flowing from her red eyes. She sniffled and threw the gun far away from herself. And he could not help himself. "So, are you still brave, Naïve Girl?"
It was the wrong thing to say. Nema's boot promptly connected with the center of his chest. He had to admit that she had a good kick on her as he fell back, coughing from the force.
"I'm naïve? Fine, I'm fucking naïve! At least I've still got hope, unlike you, you pathetic excuse for a man! Why don't you put away that crude, cold attitude of yours? You're not impressing anyone!" Nema mocked him angrily, and quickly pushed her rage aside as she helped Isobelle's mother stand. "Where do you live?"
Isobelle's mother blinked back tears. "… You truly aren't from here…"
"I am Assiah born and raised."
"… I see." Isobelle's mother could hardly talk as she collapsed against Nema in tears.
"… We all live… underground." Rujiel choked and cleared his throat as he got on his feet. "We have to, now that the Rabbit Hunting has started. We are in separate areas in the run down districts…"
He sounded relatively docile, now that Nema had dealt him a decent blow, so Nema returned the favor and spoke softly to him. "Will you take me in?"
"You ask that as if we'll say no. Of course we'll take you in. Even if you are a naïve girl."
"Thanks, you cynical bastard." Nema responded dryly.
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"… Uriel-sama…!" Doll's cry could be heard faintly, but became dramatically louder as she ran into the room Uriel stood in, his dark brow wrinkled in deep thought.
"Have you found her?"
"No!"
"… You see? It's no use, Raphael. She left with you."
The Wind Angel held his hands up helplessly. "I never saw her!"
"She looks like just about every other one of the patients you decided to bring with you. She could have very easily blended in."
"But I dealt with every single one of them, Uriel…! Not one of them had Nema's face! Don't you think I'd KNOW what she looks like by now?"
"None of that matters. The point is that she is lost. I will search through Hades to find her, but I suspect she is definitely in Heaven."
Raphael sighed heavily and ran a hand through his golden hair. "I'll get my allies together and comb through Heaven."
"You should tell her parents."
"They'll kill me."
"They will kill me, too. Does that make you feel better?"
Raphael sneered at Uriel, but said nothing. Uriel had always been a calm person, but sometimes he came off completely apathetic.
"… And Michael will need to know, too."
"… WHAT?"
"She is Michael's girl. He deserves to know her whereabouts."
"… Well if Setsuna doesn't kill me, you know Michael will!"
This sudden turn in events was hardly anything to joke about, yet Uriel could feel a rare, half-smile push up the corners of his smooth, tan lips. "Well, Michael will probably kill me, too."
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AUTHORESS NOTE: Uriel makes me smile sometimes.
How long has it been since my last update? Way too long, way too long. I do remember giving out a proper warning regarding the lack of updates, but I still feel terrible for not getting this done as early as I had wanted to. None of you thought I had abandoned this, right? Please tell me you had faith in me!
Anyway, this chapter was very "All Nema, All the time!" ish, wasn't it? It felt a little strange. I want an even representation, but I failed this round. I did it for an important reason, however; the events from this chapter are a necessary building block to all the real drama I have planned. That's right, so far, "Impy" hasn't even hit the BAR in terms of drama. At least in my terms.
I am a very cruel writer.
And now, a quick thank you to all the many reviews I have received! A lot of praise, I see. It makes me feel bubbly inside. I've also received some of nice criticisms! Don't worry, I don't take these things harshly. Sometimes I become, like, giddy about them. Don't ask why. That's something I'll never fully understand.
And also, a couple people have mentioned Raziel. Where is the guy? He's there; I haven't tossed him out of the story. However I am not bringing him in for a while. There is delicate business for me to attend to. But shh! That's a secret for me to keep.