A Sin For White Wings

Chapter 2 (ep. 3)

With a strength that defied his "weak" frame, he sat bolt upright, ripping the IV line out of his arm. Violet fluid sprayed across the white sheets, and Sarah let out a thin, terrified shriek

"Stop," I whispered, stepping toward him, my hands held out as if I were approaching a wounded animal.

"Please, stay still. You’re in the hospital. You’re safe."

He turned his head toward me. His movements were jerky, as if his bones were made of dry wood. When he saw my white coat, he flinched, scrambling back against the headboard of the bed.

"No," he rasped, his voice a ghost of the melody I’d heard in the cathedral. "No... the light. Too much light."

He looked at the silver tray of surgical tools next to the bed and recoiled as if they were red-hot coals. I realized then—the hospital, with its sterile silver and blinding lights, was a torture chamber for him.

"Sarah, get out," I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite the sweat chilling my spine. "Go to the nurse’s station and make sure the hallway is clear. Don't let anyone in here. Now!"

"But he’s dangerous—"

"Go!" I barked.

The moment the door clicked shut, the man collapsed forward, his head resting against his knees. He was shaking so violently that the metal bed frame clattered against the wall.

"You should have let me stay in the street," he whispered. His voice was a jagged rasp.

"I’m a doctor," I said, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I don't leave people to die on the pavement."

"I am not a person," he snapped, his head whipping up. His eyes were wide, the pupils blown out so large there was hardly any colour left in them. He looked at the microscope slides on the counter with a look of pure loathing. "And you aren't 'saving' anything. You’re just looking at a corpse that hasn't realized it’s dead yet."

I almost deadpanned.

But the bitterness in his voice was sharper than the silver blade that had pierced him. He wasn't trying to be poetic; he was warning me.

"I saw the blood," I whispered, stepping closer despite the cold radiating off him. "I saw what was on that slide. I don't understand it, but I know you're hurting."

He let out a short, dry laugh that turned into a wince as he clutched his side. "It’s not supposed to be understood. It’s supposed to be buried." He looked at the window, where the first hint of grey morning light was touching the glass, and his panic returned, sharper this time.

"The light... if the sun catches me like this, I won't have the strength to hide it. You have to let me go."

"You can't even stand," I pointed out, grabbing a pair of scrubs from the cabinet. "And if you walk out those doors, the morning shift will see you. They’ll see the colour of your blood, and they’ll call the police. Or the Church."

He went still at the mention of the Church. The silence between us grew heavy, filled only with the hum of the hospital machines that couldn't track his heart.

"Why?" he asked, his voice suddenly very quiet. "Why are you helping a sin?"

I didn't have an answer that made sense. Not as a doctor, and certainly not as a woman who had been raised to fear the dark. I just held out the scrubs.

"Because you didn't have to stay," I said. "In the cathedral. You could have let them take me, but you didn't. I'm just returning the favour."

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence between us, and I caught myself studying his features. He looked young, his face devoid of any hair. He had soft locks of dark brown, cascaded over his neck in a mullet. It contrasted with the shade of pink in his eyes. Normally, a vampire's eyes were a deep crimson. At least if they'd had blood before.

Those few seconds were cut off abruptly by a sharp knock on the door, Sarah calling out.

"I'm getting you out of here," I said, a sudden, reckless resolve hardening in my chest. It was madness. I was a doctor in one of the most prestigious hospitals in the city, and I was about to smuggle a non-human entity out of the back exit.

I grabbed a spare set of blue scrubs from the cabinet and threw them at him. "Put these on. Hide the wound. And for the love of God, don't let anyone see your eyes."