Above the priest’s apartment, Roman’s wings pulsed. An undulating warble throbbed just behind his eyes, spread throughout his frame in waves, until his entire being was vibrating with it. Like snapshots the images came. He saw the signs of a meal started but not finished. He saw the bodies on the foyer floor, all the blood.
This was his fault. Silver and full, the moon seemed to glare at him, accusingly.
His essence came. Immersed within it, he retracted his wings, dropped to the priest’s open window and stepped inside. He looked at the bed, imagined Father Purgeon waking up there every morning, the sun shining on his face, and envied him. The thought triggered pain. An agony that stemmed from the realization of what he was. He wondered if he’d ever seen the sun. Without a memory, he’d no way of knowing.
These thoughts frayed his mind. He returned to searching.
Finding nothing of interest upstairs, Roman went downstairs, his essence touching everything he passed, translucent wispy tendrils that lightly grazed. When he reached the bottom step, images assaulted him. He closed his eyes and let them wash over him.
He saw it all. The surprise visit. Avalyn rushing down the stairs. Touching the detectives. The agony that washed over their faces. He saw one of them shoot the other, then turn the gun on himself. He saw Father Purgeon, Avalyn, and a woman leave through the back door.
Shaken, Roman opened his eyes. As the room came back into focus, along with all the blood and gore, he wondered what Avalyn had done to the detectives, and how she’d miraculously healed.
Then, he thought about the woman he’d seen fleeing with Avalyn and Father Purgeon. The name Sarah popped in his head. Finally, a face to the name. He remembered the priest mentioning her on one of their many talks. Another innocent caught in this madness. His madness.
Roman swallowed his guilt. Remorse wouldn’t help him. He had to find them. He’d have no problem locating them. Every mortal had a unique song, a signature frequency that solely belonged to him or her. Though he was familiar with the sound of Father Purgeon’s soul, he believed it would be Avalyn’s song he’d hear the loudest. He remembered the song of her soul, its call, and, its benevolent allure.
He closed his eyes for a moment and thought of her. Immediately, he heard that same faint melody, the very same one he’d heard back at home. He heard something else. Police sirens blaring, heading his way.
Roman leaped over the bodies and raced to the back door. He wrenched it open. Beating his wings, he took to the air and followed Avalyn’s song.