ANGEL BLUE [1]

LEAD 6: lost one

      The darkness of my room brings no promise of sleep, and certainly the tiredness that constricts me has no way of being alleviated. I lay on my bed reading through the Angel Blue file at eleven at night, I’ve been up for a total of eighteen hours. Even I consider that unhealthy.

    I’ve already read up on the seven creatures crossed out on the list in Dianne’s throat, and compare it to the list in Angel Blue. They’re exact matches, not one creature is misnumbered on the list. What catches my attention is #20. I hadn’t paid close attention to it in the morgue or when I breezed through it in the locker room.

NAME: DIABLO
NUMBERS: 2
GANGS: N/A
TERRITORIES: N/A 
KNOWN MEMBERS: [blacked out page]  
SUMMARY: the word ‘Diablo’ translates into Demon. These creatures are known for their advanced intellect and deception. Those that are Diablo have no distinguishable markings. For example, when Shifters change, their eyes remain black no matter who they disguise themselves as. Diablo’s have purple irises when they’re around other creatures. For the FBI, they could be an asset, but for the sake of the general public and the good of America―they must be exterminated.

     I run a hand through my hair to let it out of its short ponytail. So, there’s one known member that carries the Diablo gene? Dad said that the FBI had me and Snag’s casefiles, but Sam’s mutation isn’t superior enough to show through―then who…?

     There’s a knock on my bedroom door, now, from my time when I was once part of a nuclear family, my parents used to knock on my door to tell me to stop playing loud music or to come down and have dinner. Over the years, I’ve been able to distinguish knocks.

      Dad always uses the side of his fist, but doesn’t apply too much force whereas Mum uses her left hand because I always used to hear the scrape of her wedding ring against the wood. Helena just slams her palm against the door because I hear the jingle of her two gold bracelets. This person’s knock is for sheer attention, not just a ‘turn off your light and go to bed’ knock but a ‘something is up’ knock. Nobody that I know knocks like that.

      I sweep all the papers back into the Angel Blue file and place it in my Criminal Minds box set. Nobody knows it’s in there, nobody can notice either. Dad’s been in my room twice since last week when I burst into Blake’s apartment, and he hasn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, or questioned about the file.

      When the knocking doesn’t stop, I reach over to my bedside table where I’d draped my belt. I pry my gun from the leather holster and click the hammer back, since Henry Nikita’s reappearance to Manhattan, I’ve been extra cautious.

    I probably don’t look very threatening in my oversized NYPD navy blue shirt and flannelette pajama bottoms, but I can at least make an attempt to be menacing. I reach to flick the lock on my door so the intruder can open it. There’s a moment of silence as the knob turns and I stand in a shooting stance so my shoulder won’t click back.

      Once again, Sam and I stare at each other with our guns drawn. We’re both at point blank range. I open my mouth to speak but Sam lowers his gun and raises his hands, causing me to disarm myself and toss my gun onto the covers of my bed.

      “Christ, Stevens,” Sam scratches his bronze hair, causing it to stick up. “You seriously need to start answering your calls; I’ve been trying to reach you since eight!”

      “Well it’s not my fault I don’t want to talk to a prat,” I fold my arms. “Who let you in anyway? Dad and Helena are on some sort of romantic date.”