The Concubine

17: Tales of betrayal

I hate writer's block with a burning passion.

17

One of the biggest advantages of the secret passages was their absolute lack of light, making it easier and faster for Alastor to move in his shadow form. Specially while carrying the wounded concubine, whose very life depended on how quick they could get to a safe place, and right now the only safe place Alastor could think of was his own room, at the third floor. He bursted in, turned into an eldritch horror of tentacles and static, causing the poor maid arranging his bed to nearly pass out. She did scream like if she was being attacked before bolting out.

Alastor carefully layed Angel down on his bed while regaining his human form. the blond's beautiful dress was soaked in blood now, his eyes were closed and his breathing became slower and heavier.

-Mon Ange, please resist- he begged, caressing his stained cheek. Angel's eyes barely opened and tears rolled down.-I'll heal you, just...

-You're aware we can't do healing magic, right? I mean, outside this vessel of yours.

Oh, no. Not that voice.

 Looking sideways, Alastor found the mirror uncovered, and that nasty yellow smile and those red bright eyes shining in delight at the sight of blood. He ignored it and took off his jacket, then chanting a spell with his hand over the wound.

-Could just give 'im to me-Rouge continued, nonchalantly- We both would be free at last...

Alastor rose his voice in a futile atempt to ignore Rouge's voice deep in his head, dark green sparks swirled into the wound as his hand turned pitch black and trembled from the combined effort, concentration and fear of messing up; the bullet was the only thing stopping the bleeding, but it was also too deep into Angel's body, any slipup could be as fatal.

-Are you def?-Rouge insisted-You have the solution to our problem! Just...

-SHUT UP!-Alastor roared, already fed up, but when his voice lowered again it trembled. - Just this once... help me save him or get out of my way.

A heavy silence filled the room, the only sound being Angel grasping for a breath, his head falling to the side.

-Alastor.

A gentle dark hand settled over his. Alastor finally broke eye contact with Rouge and turned to Stolas. Behind him, he could feel Rouge dissapearing from the mirror.

-Stolas... please... -his mentor stroke his head fondly, while Niffty came in with the bandages and medicine. She only gasped once, but set herself in motion immediately.

-You take the bullet out and we heal it, alright?-said Stolas calmly. Alastor just nooded and with his free hand gently moved Angel's head to connect their eyes:

-Look at me. Stay with me. Just look at my eyes the whole time, alright? This will hurt a lot but you will be fine.

At that point Angel was struggling to be conscious, but he was still listening, and blinked once in approval, before Alastor's eyes glimmed in green again.

An atrocious pain filled Angel's body making him scream, as something small and stinging pulled out of his flesh and the blood pushed it out with the force of his rushed heartbeats, threatening to cause a major damage. Alastor tried his best to focus on the spell, but besides resisting the urge to stop and hold his suffering concubine in his arms, for some reason the bullet kept getting stuck here and there, tugs could be felt through his magic. Bullets didn't do that, and a dart wouldn't go that deep in the flesh...