"Charlotte?"
Angel looked up, his attention stolen from pressing a large bandage over a long, deep gash on the young woman's right arm. He couldn't imagine what she had been through to wind up half-naked and injured among the dense shrubbery of the forest, where he had been tracking two kidnappers.
His source reported that two young girls had been taken, not an adult woman, and it had him wondering if the men were part of the larger ring he'd been hearing about over the past year.
When he'd first found her, dazed and barely able to speak, he'd helped her back to his mobile transport—a windowless black van with all but the two front seats removed, replaced in the back with thick padding and strewn about with black trash bags. Settling her down on the padding, he retrieved his medical kit and began dressing her wounds.
As he wrapped the bandage around her arm and considered who she could be, he gently asked her the necessary questions: Who was she? Where was she from? And how had she ended up in the woods? None of which she could answer, her replies mainly consisting of frightened 'I don't knows'. She fell silent when he reached past her, grabbed a warm quilt blanket, and set it upon her shoulders. He sat back for a moment to assess her.
She was not a child—which raised other questions—but a young woman in her early twenties. When he carried her back, he guessed she was probably about seventy-four inches tall. Two inches shy of his six-foot-four frame. She was not at all frail, which further added to the mystery of why and how she ended up in the brush in her condition.
In the van's dim light, he inventoried her features. Her dark eyes gleamed like polished obsidian, peeking out from tangled blonde bangs, with the rest of her hair cascading down to her buttocks. The woman's cheeks were unusually red against her pale, alabaster-shaded skin. Her mouth was small, with thin, maroon lips that appeared as if an artist had used a fine brush to draw them.
As he wrapped the bandage around her arm, he heard her speak under her breath. Gently, he prodded her to repeat herself. "Did you say something?"
"Charlotte. I think that's my name," she groaned, rubbing the bruise on her head. "It seems familiar to me, but nothing else does. Why?"
With the bandage secured, he retrieved a water bottle from a cooler beside him, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to her. "Here, drink this; it'll help you feel better."
Charlotte tentatively accepted the bottle and tilted it, pouring water into her mouth. Her eyes widened as she began coughing violently. She spat the water back out and dropped the bottle, spilling the rest all over the floor.
"Whoa, easy!" He swooped the bottle up and recapped it. "Are you okay?"
She coughed a bit more to clear her throat. When she finally settled, Charlotte sniffed. "Sorry, sorry, sorry."
He handed her a fresh bottle. "Don't be. Just sip the water slower."
Embarrassed, she followed his instructions and slowly sipped the water.
While she did so, Angel rummaged through some of the trash bags. "Do you know how you got here, Charlotte?" Finding a black shirt and a pair of ripped blue jeans, he drew them out. "Were you kidnapped?"
"Kidnapped," she exclaimed, shocked. "NO! No, I don't think so. No? I—I can't remember anything, still!"
"It's okay. Don't push yourself. You need to rest a bit and calm down." Angel slid into the driver's seat and handed her the clothes. "Here, I think these will fit you well. Your clothes are a mess."
Charlotte noticed her state of dress and blushed. Thankfully, nothing intimate was showing, but it was not without a bit of luck. She turned away and lifted the blanket over her head, then peeled the tattered remains of her white dress shirt away and noticed light cuts all over her torso and breasts.
What happened to me? she silently questioned herself as she slipped on the black shirt, its smooth cotton cool against her skin. The silence in the van as she dressed was too much for her, so she asked a question of her own. "I'm sorry. I think you told me your name, but I can't remember."
"It's okay. My name's Angel."
Angel? She thought the word sounded very familiar, but could not place it. She pushed off what was left of her slacks, grateful that her undergarments seemed fully intact, and slipped on the new blue jeans, which hugged her hips comfortably. She remarked, "These fit well."
"I keep various items here for the kids and teens I find. I've gotten good at guessing sizes."
As she adjusted her new clothes, Charlotte repeated her earlier question. "Where am I?"
"Gratton. I found you nearby in the woods."
"Gratton?" The name did not sound familiar, but then, nothing did.
"It's in Virginia. Do you remember where you're from?"
She zipped up her new jeans, buttoned the clasp, and turned back to face him. "No. Why can't I remember anything but my name?"
Angel turned back in his seat to face her. "Amnesia is common with a head wound like yours; the trauma can block memory. Muscle memory generally remains, such as being able to talk, walk, etc. However, I'm at a loss as to why you only remember your name and nothing else. You've obviously been attacked; I just can't understand why you were left behind."
She rubbed her forehead and found another bruise that stung. "Behind?" Nothing made sense, and she felt her frustration and anger grow.
"Listen, Charlotte, I'm a bounty hunter and tracker. I search for lost and missing children or those taken against their will. I was tracking a pair of brothers who'd kidnapped two girls when I found you. I assumed you were taken as well, yet abandoned for some reason."
"I honestly don't think so. I don't know why I can't remember, but I don't feel like I was taken." A sudden realization hit her hard in her stomach, and she felt a rumbling of energy wash over her. "Wait—you said they took two little kids?"
Before he could respond, Angel heard a deep, animalistic rumble echo from Charlotte's throat. Stunned, he found himself frozen in place, witness to a shocking transformation unfolding in the young woman. Her eyes blazed a brilliant crimson, and her pupils narrowed into snake-like slits. Her dark lips twitched, curling into a fierce snarl, revealing teeth sharpened to points reminiscent of a great white shark. Twin straight horns sprouted gracefully above her temples, with her golden hair darkening to a soft shade of black. What were once dirty, broken fingernails transformed into long, sharp claws rivaling those of a lioness.
Gasping, he bolted for the driver's side door but never reached it, as the creature's clawed hand seized him by the shoulder. A frighteningly dark voice echoed in his ear. "WHERE… ARE… THEY!?"
Angel had faced death before. He had served for years in the military, leading missions into the most dangerous of places. Yet, despite everything he had ever encountered in the line of duty, nothing compared to the dread he now felt in the presence of the thing behind him.
The chill that raced along his spine froze him in place, and it took all of his willpower just to utter a whispered, "Ch… Charlotte?"
The glowing red eyes widened, and the shape of the demon before him melted away just as fast as it had formed, replaced by her trembling, frightened figure. Charlotte fell back to the floor, her voice sounding small and hollow. "A—Angel? What… What just happened to me?"
"What the fuck are you?" He managed to utter between labored breaths.
Shivering, she draped the warm blanket over her shoulders and sobbed, "I don't know! I don't fucking know!" She noticed Angel's hand on the door. His posture indicated he was ready to run. Charlotte sniffled as she wiped her nose. "Please, please don't leave me. I won't hurt you. I promise!"
It took all of his discipline, training, and a hefty dose of recklessness to decide his next move. He let go of the handle, chastised himself for his choice, and carefully slid off the chair to kneel before her.
"Okay. I won't leave you, Charlotte. I'm right here."
She nodded quietly, her lips tightly pressed together, yet her eyes disclosed her gratitude. Still, her shoulders shook noticeably, and she whispered, "What am I?"
Angel took a deep breath. "I don't believe I'm saying this, but uh, you looked like a demon."
"Demon?" Charlotte tasted the word, and it connected with thoughts of angels. Angels and demons. Heaven and Hell. She grasped the concept but understood little else. "How can I be a demon? They're just stories, aren't they? Just make-believe?"
"Depends on your faith, I suppose." Angel shrugged. "Some suggest that they're denizens of Hell, sinners and other beings, that would as soon rip the flesh off bones and destroy souls, as look at you."
"How can I be a demon, then? I feel so much rage thinking about those children being harmed. If I'm a monster, why would I feel this way?" She gulped, swallowed hard, and coughed again. She quickly grabbed the water bottle, recalled his warning, and sipped slowly to soothe the itch at the back of her throat.
"I don't know, Charlotte. But you changed, and had traits of a demon: horns, claws, and so on. Many artistic depictions attribute those features to demons. I grew up in a Catholic family, but lost my faith a long time ago. Haven't prayed since…" He caught himself and skipped the rest of the thought. "And I have never been able to really accept the existence of the supernatural, despite my sister's insistence, but most stories suggest demons follow the devil, Lucifer."
"Lucifer," she spoke the name slowly and quietly, her mind rolling in painful confusion. "It feels familiar."
He sighed softly. "Look, every instinct in me tells me to run for the hills and get as far away from you as possible." He saw her eyes widen and continued quickly, "But, against my better judgment, I'm not going to leave you. I promise. But Charlotte? Right now, I've got to try to find those kidnappers. Do you think you'll be okay hiding here until I return?"
"The kids!" She exclaimed, recalling what had initially triggered her change. "You need to save those kids!"
"Right. So look, there's plenty of water and some snacks in here. Keep the doors locked, and you'll be safe. Okay?"
Charlotte glanced around the van, then turned back to him and shook her head. "No. I want to help!"
He leaned back, surprised. "Help?"
"Yes! If I'm able to do what I just did again?" She wondered, "If I can harness this power that I feel welling inside me, I can scare the fuck out of those men and help you save the kids."
He shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"Please!" Charlotte grasped his hands, her eyes pleading. "I can help you; I know it!"
Angel had always been exceptional at recognizing the distinct parts of a complicated puzzle and assembling them to create a strategy or solution. While she was presenting her argument, he considered the proposition she was suggesting. If she could channel the power she had just revealed, it would significantly increase his chances of success. However, he needed a few more pieces in place.
"What if, when you transform, you lose control and end up killing me?" He challenged.
She fell silent, her eyes dropped, and her shoulders slumped. "I wouldn't. I couldn't… I… I…" A snarl echoed from her throat as she aired out her frustration. "FUCK!" The sudden outburst caused a ripple of power to surge inside the van, causing the instrument panel to glitch and the radio to spark with static, despite the engine being off.
Angel whipped his head toward the console, surprised, but it was over just as quickly as it had happened. However, the goosebumps on his skin remained, and he fell back against the chair, startled. "Jesus!"
Charlotte's head snapped up, her voice laced with shame. "I'M SORRY!" But almost instantly after her apology, her face contorted in a look of concentration. "But I felt it again. It's there, just below the surface, but I don't know how to bring it out safely."
Regaining his composure, Angel spoke in a soft voice. "It's… It's okay." Clenching his fist in the palm of his other hand, he rubbed them together to gather his courage, then turned to face her directly. "I'm going to trust you, Charlotte, even though it's risky. But you didn't hurt me when you lost control earlier. In fact, your rage stemmed from what I told you about my mission."
She nodded quickly. "I want to help!"
"Okay." He couldn't believe he was about to do this, but then he remembered her injuries. "But I have to ask: Do you think you're strong enough for this? You've been badly hurt."
"Yes." Charlotte nodded firmly. "I feel strong enough to move. The power I released earlier seems to have healed me."
Raising an eyebrow, Angel reached out with his right hand. "May I check?"
She nodded and extended her hand for him to examine. Gently, he lifted the bandage on her arm and was surprised to find that her wounds were gone. He reached for the dressing on her shoulder and paused. She tilted her head to the side, her eyes encouraging him to proceed. He eased away the wrapping on her shoulder and observed that the wound had also disappeared.
"You're healed," Angel whispered in awe.
She cracked her neck and allowed a menacing smile to curl her lips. "I feel… good. Very good." She turned to him with a mischievous grin. "Help me bring out my power."
"Just promise not to rip my guts out?"
"I sincerely promise you, Angel." She touched his hand gently. "You saved my life tonight. I will never hurt you." Her eyes glowed softly, a pinkish hue around the rims as she spoke with a low growl. "But those monsters out there need to be stopped. If what I am can help you, then I must try."
He scratched his face, relieving an itch from the hairs of his two-day beard as he thought. After a moment, Angel sighed. "I've lost time hunting them down when I found you, but if you're up for this and if you truly are what we believe you are—strategically speaking, you could give me a tremendous advantage."
"Thank you, Angel." Charlotte gave him a confident look. "I'm ready."
"I'm not," he whispered as he opened the side door.
Outside, he turned and offered his hand, which she graciously accepted, and stepped onto the cold, wet grass. The blades tickled her feet, which felt good. The wind was gentle, and the moon shone brightly, casting an almost spotlight-like beam on her. She cracked her neck once, her stance radiating power and strength.
The transformation from an injured girl to a determined warrior was remarkable. She was embracing who she could become, driven by a profound need to protect.
This isn't anything like what I've known about demons, Angel thought to himself. Maybe the stories were wrong, after all.
"Charlotte?"
She turned to face him. "Yes?"
"We don't have much time, but I'm going to try to help you bring out what I saw, with you in control of it. If that's even possible." With a deep breath, he exhaled slowly and licked his lips. "I'm sorry if this hurts, but I want you to concentrate on what happened in the van. Remember what I said about those people kidnapping children? Picture those scared little kids fearing for their lives. Understand that these men are sick, perverted scum. They take kids, not always for ransom; sometimes it's for something far worse."
Charlotte felt her energy pulsing in sync with her heartbeat. She attempted to draw the power forward, but it wasn't easy. With her eyes closed, she prompted, "Worse. How?"
Rage erupted from deep within her upon hearing his answer. Her eyes opened wide, now red as blood. The transformation was immediate; power surged through her veins, altering her appearance. The sweet-faced, blonde-haired, black-eyed girl who once stood with him had become the demon again. Horns, teeth, tail, and claws. But now that they stood outside the van, he also noticed that she had cloven hooves instead of her former human feet.
Energy crackled around her, and Angel was overwhelmed by genuine fear and regret, realizing he may have misjudged the situation. Nothing from stories or legends could compare to the reality he faced now. In a reflexive motion, his hand instinctively moved to his gun, flipping open the clip on the holster.
Charlotte saw this and darted forward, sharply slapping his hand away, and yanked the gun from the holster. Stepping back, she hissed at him, her tail whipping menacingly behind her.
Angel stood as steady as he could, trying to look nonthreatening, while observing her fixate on the gun in her claws. Her demonic eyes then found his, and she took three deliberate steps closer. With two clawed fingers of her other hand, she reversed the gun and offered it to him. Hesitantly, he raised his hand, and she laid it in his open palm.
Her usual voice emerged from the fanged mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what you'd do. But it's me. I have control. I promised I wouldn't hurt you." Her gaze fell to the gun in his hand. "I trust you won't hurt me?"
He gazed up at her, her eyes still red with an eerie glow yet wide with fear of rejection. He slowly slipped the gun into its holster and cautiously reached out with his hand in a gesture of trust. Cupping her cheek, which felt hot to the touch, he affirmed, "I won't."
Covering his hand with her claw, Charlotte whispered, "Thank you."
Angel could only nod, unable to think of anything to say. Meanwhile, she chose to lighten the mood, her lips curling into a smile as she drawled, "Well—" her sharp teeth flashing. "How do I look?"
The unexpected question broke the tension, and he burst into laughter. She responded with a giggle, which, coming from a demon, was both strange and adorable.
After about a minute, he regained his composure. Clearing his throat, Angel admitted, "Honestly? Now that I've had a chance to really see at you: If you really don't mind me saying, you look beautiful—terrifying, but beautiful." He shook his head, still bewildered by this turn of events. "How do you feel?"
His compliment, though she'd asked for his opinion, was not what she'd expected him to say. The blush that crept into her cheeks burned along her already warm skin. Focusing on his last question to stave off the embarrassment, she closed her eyes and concentrated. "I feel… amazing. Strong. Powerful."
He was studying her when he noticed that when she transformed, and her physical features had altered, her clothing hadn't been ruined by the change. He directed his gaze from her goat-like hooves—he paused when he noticed them—up to her neckline. "How did the clothes not rip from you?"
Charlotte's cheeks flushed again; she knew the answer. She just didn't understand how she knew it. "It's a part of my magic, I think. What I wear will shift to fit." She paused in reflection; her eyes sparkling slightly as she smiled. "And I sense there are other things this form can do, too."
Angel circled her, scratching his chin. "Like what?"
"I'm not sure," Charlotte frowned, her lips pursing tightly together. Looking at him as he stopped in front of her, she asked, "In the stories, what can demons do?"
It was a good question. He thought about all the media he'd consumed over the years: the books he'd read and movies he enjoyed. Clicking his tongue, he answered with, "Well, for one, some demons could shoot fire from their fingertips."
Scrunching up her brow, Charlotte thought intently. After a moment, she grinned wickedly as she flexed her claws. "Let's find out." Lifting her hand, she extended her pointer finger and unleashed a blast of fire. They watched together in wonderment as the flare burst above them, almost like a tiny firework going off.
A wave of giddiness fluttered through her, and she giggled. "Pew pew!" She playfully whispered.
It was dawning on Angel that he was in the midst of teaching a demon how to be… a demon. He could only imagine what his sister would say. Noticing that Charlotte was staring at him, he realized she was waiting for him to list another trait that demons had.
"In horror films, demons don't reveal themselves until the third act. So, they move around unseen. They're invisible."
Nodding once, Charlotte tightly closed her eyes and went still. For a moment, nothing occurred, then with a silent pop, she vanished from sight.
"Whoah," Angel whispered. When she didn't immediately reappear, he became a bit concerned. He whispered into the darkness. "Charlotte?"
He jumped slightly when he felt her gentle but firm arms surround him from behind in a warm embrace. "You didn't see me or hear me walk behind you, did you?" Her breath whispered in his ear.
He placed his hands on her invisible arms. "I did not." They felt warmer than a normal human would—another aspect of her demon anatomy, he surmised. He gave her a reassuring squeeze. He was slightly surprised by the intimacy of her touch, but it helped ease some of his fears. "Invisibility, confirmed."
As she materialized into view, she stepped back and shyly turned away to hide a blooming blush spreading over her already ruby-red cheeks.
He noticed something beyond her shyness. "No wings? I thought that would be common for demons."
She turned back around with a wistful look. "Wings? Oh, I'd love to have wings!"
Fresh in his thoughts of when she had snatched the gun from his hand, he challenged her. "How fast are you?"
Without answering, she took off in a sprint around the van, picking up speed with each lap until she stopped abruptly beside him after finishing a full dozen laps in just over fourteen seconds. "How's that?"
"More than enough. How's your eyesight in the dark?"
"I see perfectly," she boasted, firm and proud.
When he didn't list another demonic attribute, Charlotte gazed at him. His expression was mixed with curiosity and concern.
Confused by it, she leaned in to get his attention. "What's wrong?"
Angel didn't exactly look at her when he replied; rather, he seemed to be looking past her. His voice was low and contemplative. "You were wounded when I found you."
"Right," she agreed hesitantly, unsure why he'd changed the topic. She was enjoying discovering her gifts. But when he focused his gaze on her, his expression had shifted to one of deep concern, and it clicked for her. "We don't know if I can be killed."
When he didn't reply right away, Charlotte made a snap decision. "Shoot me."
He blinked, as if coming out of a trance. "What?" He choked on the word.
"Don't. No lies, please. You thought about it. You wonder if I could be harmed or killed in this form."
"I…" Angel sighed softly. "I can't help it; I'm a strategist; it's how I excel at my job. I consider every angle for every mission. My army buddies used to tease me that I was playing 4D Chess, envisioning every possible outcome of a mission. We were an exceptionally successful unit until—" He paused and quickly shifted directions again. "The fact is, you were bleeding, cut, hurt, and suffering from memory loss. You healed when you first changed form, yes, but—"
"But we don't know if I was in my demon form when I was hurt," Charlotte finished his sentence. She sighed. His hesitation both frustrated her and increased her trust in him. But she had already made up her mind. "We can find out now, or discover if someone else hurts me. I can heal in my demon form, Angel, so I'll be okay, but what if I'm also impervious to pain like this? We'd have a greater advantage."
"And I thought I was the strategist." He mused.
"I'm scared. But I trust you. Just aim for my shoulder, and let me take care of the rest."
He hesitated. "I—."
"Look." Charlotte sighed. "This isn't my first choice for finding out if I'm immortal or not, but we need to know, don't we?"
"There's got to be a better way," Angel argued. "I could poke you with my knife." It sounded silly even to him, but he was not willing to shoot her so easily.
"I've already been poked by brambles!" There was a sudden depth to her tone as her frustration began to take over. Time was of the essence, and she felt her demon voice to bleed out. "Just fucking shoot me!" And though it seemed extremely silly to her, considering the request, Charlotte added in a gentler tone, "Please?"
He was beginning to realize that it was pointless to argue with her once she had made up her mind. However, he was worried about hurting her, not just because it wasn't in his nature to kill, but because he was in awe of her and maybe even a little smitten.
When he looked at her and saw her determination, he silently agreed. Taking a single breath to calm his mind, as he had been trained, he unclipped the holster cover, drew the gun, cocked it, and, without a second thought to challenge his resolve, fired a single round into the demon before him, aiming squarely at her arm, just below the shoulder, targeting the flesh away from the bone.
The bullet pierced Charlotte's arm and exited cleanly through the other side, blood spattering onto the earth and staining the grass blades crimson behind her. A shriek tore from her throat—an otherworldly demon voice howling in agony as she clutched the wound, face flushed scarlet while tears streamed from dark, inhuman eyes.
Angel shoved the gun into his holster and raced toward her, but she raised a clawed hand to halt him. With fire sparking from the tips of her horns, her full demon voice warned, thick and menacing. "DON'T!"
He obeyed and stopped short, his eyes filled with apprehension.
After a moment of shivering and gripping her arm tightly, she stood up straight, removed her hand from the wound, and closed her eyes. There, she remained in silence and snarled deeply. The sound frightened him, and he wondered if he had made the second biggest mistake of his life. But what he witnessed next was more impressive than frightening. Her skin began to glow, energy cascading over her, and in moments, the wound closed completely.
Healing herself from such an intense wound was more exhausting than she had anticipated. Woozy, she began to stumble.
Despite her warning, Angel instinctively ran forward and caught her in mid-fall. He knelt down, holding her gently in his arms. She wrapped her arms around him for support.
"Charlotte?" He whispered with concern. "Are you okay?"
When she opened her eyes, they revealed her piercing black human irises, though the rest of her was still in demon form. "I'm so sorry for frightening you. It hurt more than I thought it would, and for a moment, I wasn't sure if I could keep myself from lashing out."
"Your eyes?" Curiously, he brushed a wisp of hair away from her face. "They've changed back."
"They have? I think the healing process weakens my powers for a few." She shivered slightly. "But I'm okay. Trust me."
He nodded softly, and they stared quietly at each other for seconds, which felt like minutes, before he cleared his throat. "It seems that despite your powers, you're still mortal like any human." He wasn't comfortable putting her in harm's way, and he said so. "I'm not sure if it's a good idea for you to go with me."
She tightened her grip on him. Her eyes pulsed red, indicating that her strength was already returning. "I'm not debating this, Angel. I'm going with you. I think you know you can't stop me." She didn't mean to sound so angry, but she was determined not to be left behind. She refused to let those children suffer if there was anything she could do about it. Still, she wanted his approval. "Please?"
He took a deep breath and accepted her stance. "In that case, we're going to need a plan."
"What kind of plan?" She questioned as he helped her to stand up.
"I was thinking about that. Now that we've seen what you can do, we're going to take full advantage of the lore about demons."
Her demon face appeared quizzical, which he found rather cute as he walked over to the van and retrieved his duffel bag from inside the open door. After checking its contents, he confirmed it had what he needed. He looked back at her and considered the cool air before grabbing a red leather jacket and a pair of black Crocs, which he handed her.
"Demon or not, it's cold out, and you shouldn't be barefoot. We don't need you wasting your energy on healing every thorn or splinter you step on."
Relieved that he was accepting her help, a small giggle lit the air around them as she shifted back to her human form and slipped the crocs on.
Motioning for her to follow, Angel started toward the black woods. Falling into step beside him, Charlotte listened intently as he began to explain, "Let me tell you some stories."