Guarding the Angel

Chapter 5

"You've tricked me!" the old lady hisses out. She quickly transforms her sword back into a cane. "I should've known that reinforcements were coming. It's impossible for an activated mortal to be powerless."

With that, she brushed past Pat and started down the street. "I'll be back when you least expect it," she calls out. 

Her departing words are sadly cliche, but I'm too relieved that she is gone to think about them long. I put down the last fragment of the stool and survey the room. Aside from several holes left in the wall and general disarray of furniture, the room didn't look beyond repair. By my estimate, there should be enough for me to clean up the majority of things before mother returns home.

I turn to look at Cloud. He is standing in the corner of the room with a scowl on his face. "Harimanne, what just happened?" Pat asks, stepping towards me. 

He looks around the room, bug-eyed. "It's something between me and her," Cloud answers and then he hits Pat over the head with the only other stool in the kitchen. 

Pat crumples to the ground. His tank of anti-pest spray crashes down next to him. It bursts open, stinging my nose with its pungency. At least this room won't be having any bug or rodent problems for awhile. Although compared to the damage of the Cloud problems its been subjected to lately, I don't know if it matters. 

"What did you do that for?" I demand, turning to glare at Cloud. 

He cocks his head to one side and stares at me with his pale blue eyes. "You're strange."

"I don't care what you think I am! I tried hard to give you space and leave your secrets to you, but you have over-stepped the bounds of sanity. Now, I need answers," I explode, "Who was that old lady? Why did she want to kill you? Is Pat still alive? What exactly did becoming a Protector do to me? Will there be other pursuers who come after me?"

Cloud interrupts my tirade of questions by stepping forward and clapping a hand over my mouth. My eyes widen and I feel my heart-rate spike. Is there another enemy? "Stop bombarding me with blabber. It's giving me a headache," Cloud says.

Then, he removes his hand and steps back. The corners of my lips turn down and I feel a crease begin to form on my forehead. For a moment, I forgot the uselessness of asking questions. I forgot that all questions lead to are lies and disappointment. "Sorry," I say. The apology is not meant to be to Cloud, but rather to myself. 

I turn away from Cloud and hurry over to Pat's side. To my relief, his chest is still rising and falling steadily. Other than a nasty lump forming on his forehead, he looks alright. I pick up the empty tank of anti-pest spray and set it up across the room. Next, I lean down and prop Pat up. It can't be good for him to inhale the fumes of the spray coating the floor. 

I carry Pat out of the kitchen and into the living room. Carefully, I lay him down on the couch. Next, I return to the kitchen and pull out an ice-pack. I wrap the ice-pack in a towel and then place it on the lump forming on Pat's head. Hopefully it helps with the swelling.

"What are you doing?" Cloud asks.

Part of me wants to give Cloud the silent treatment. However, I know first-hand how hurtful that tactic can be. "I'm trying to minimize the damage you inflicted upon Pat," I tell him.

Cloud lets out a snort. "The physical lump is the least of what I did. Since we can't have witnesses beyond you and I of the hag, I wiped his memory. He won't remember a single thing that happened in the past week. Now, we need to dump him at some location with no connection to this place. That way he won't attribute us with his sudden memory loss."

The more that Cloud speaks, the more I regret bringing him back here. What did I expect to come of dragging an unconscious young man with wings home? If I was expecting some kind of life-long gratitude from him or at least the satisfaction of knowing I helped save someone good in the world, then there is nothing but disappointment. Since I feel anger instead of disappointment, I'm willing to bet there was some other reason I brought him home. At the moment, I can't figure out what it is.

"We are not going to dump Pat off somewhere," I tell Cloud. 

"It's the only logical thing to do," he whines back. His attitude is in serious need of improvement. Whoever raised him clearly set no boundaries. 

Pat begins to stir. "He's awake already?" Cloud frowns and picks up the stool again. 

I snatch the stool out of his hands before he can bash Pat over the head. "I don't know what is wrong with you, but I will not let you hit him again." 

"Do you really think you can stop me?" he questions. His voice comes out so soft that it's almost a whisper as he steps towards me. I take a step backwards. My back is up against one of the living room walls. Cloud closes the distance between us, trapping me between himself and the wall. "I'm stronger, bigger and smarter than you," he continues, "Your will may be your own by some mistake, but your actions belong to me."

I'm too stunned to speak. My mouth opens and closes a couple of times. How can someone be this delusional? I knee Cloud in the stomach and push past him. Pat sits up on the couch.

"What happened?" he asks groggily.

"We found you unconscious a few houses down," Cloud says, eyes glowing a little bit.

I look between Pat, the broken tank of anti-pest spray and the complete mess of the kitchen. There's no way Pat would buy that. "Really?" Pat asks, wrinkling his eyebrows.

"Yes," Cloud says in a low, soothing voice.

"How strange. I seem to distinctly recall you hitting me over the head with a stool after an old lady stopped sword fighting with Harimanne," Pat says, crossing his arms and glaring at Cloud.