Mean Streets

It was something he could get used to, and something that would gradually leach away his humanity, until all that remained was a cold, unfeeling instrument of violence forged in Heaven. He had escaped being that a very long time ago, and would do everything in his power to never be that way again.

The wings wanted to stay, to be part of his everyday attire, but Remy told them no. This was how the divine nature that he kept locked away worked, reminding him of what he had once been, trying to tempt him with memories of a glorious time when he soared above the spires of Heaven.

But those times were gone, sullied by the violence of war.

Remembering what he did, could any of them—these so-called creatures of Heaven—even remotely be considered divine?

Remy didn't think so, and exerting his will upon the wings, he forced them away, burying the nature he had come to abhor, and assuming the guise of humanity.

"Marlowe, I'm back," he announced, glancing at the clock on the DVD player. He'd been gone for close to two hours.

Odd, he thought, as the normally curious beast did not come to see him.

"Hey, Marlowe?" Remy called out again, leaving the living room and heading down the hallway to the dog's lair.

"Do you want to go out?" Remy asked, then stopped as he saw that Marlowe was not alone.

The creature appeared human, almost childlike, its body pale, hairless, and incredibly thin. It was dressed in swaths of filthy cloth that hung in tatters from its scarecrowlike frame.

Remy had no idea what it was. It bore no resemblance to the indigo-skinned figures he'd seen perched on the rocks so long ago. It squatted on its haunches in front of Marlowe. Toys were scattered about the floor, and the two were staring at each other intensely, eyes locked as if playing a game, victory going to the one who managed not to blink first.

The tension in the air was palpable, like an elastic band just about stretched to capacity before…

Marlowe barked, slapping his paws on the hardwood floor, and all hell broke loose.

The trancelike state between the two beasts suddenly broken, the creature reacted, pulling its pale lips back in a catlike hiss.

Remy was afraid, and as if suddenly catching the scent of his fear, the white-skinned being turned its gaze to him.

Its eyes were black, like shiny pools of oil, and Remy felt himself drawn toward their inky depths.

"Marlowe… run," he managed, looking away before the intruder sprang.

It moved incredibly fast, and collided with Remy, knocking him back against the wall as it tried to escape down the hall.

The dog was barking like crazy now.

Remy dove, wrapping his arms around the creature's thin waist, driving them both to the floor.

The invader let out an unpleasant squeal, a strange mixture of a baby's cry and the screech of brakes, as it struggled in his grasp.

"Stay back," Remy commanded the dog, as the Labrador started to slink from the room. Marlowe retreated.

The strange beast was much stronger than it appeared, easily breaking Remy's grip and scrabbling to its bare feet in a frantic run. It skidded around the corner into the living room, and Remy was right behind it. But it was waiting for him. The creature charged, slashing at him with razor-sharp claws. Remy leapt back, feeling the claws snag the front of his shirt and graze the smooth flesh beneath.

The beast had retreated deeper into the living room and crouched there, watching him. Remy was about to charge after it, but something stopped him. Something in the monster's gaze.

Is that fear?

Still crouched on the living room rug, the creature let out another of its disturbing cries, and Remy watched in surprise as it began to convulse, hunching its back as if bending over to vomit. But instead, the pale flesh on its bony back tore with a wet, ripping sound, and two leathery batlike wings popped from beneath the skin.

Remy watched, dumbfounded, as the creature cloaked itself in its new leathern appendages, then squeezed itself smaller and smaller, until it was no longer there, leaving behind only the telltale scent of magick.

Angel magick.

Remy was still staring at the spot where the intruder had been, trying to understand what was going on, when he heard a soft whimper behind him. He turned to see a trembling Marlowe standing in the hallway, clutching a filthy stuffed monkey in his mouth.

"Hey," Remy said, going to the shaking animal. "Are you all right?" he asked, running his hands over the black Labrador's body, searching for injuries. "Did he hurt you?"

Marlowe let the toy drop to the floor, licking the side of Remy's face affectionately.

"No hurt," Marlowe said. "Nice."

Remy stopped inspecting the dog and looked into Marlowe's dark brown eyes. "What do you mean, nice?"

"Nice, no hurt," Marlowe explained. "Give toy." The dog pawed the filthy stuffed monkey. "Nice. Give toy."

Remy reached down to pick up the monkey.

"This isn't yours?" he asked the dog.