The Chamber of Sins

Robert paced anxiously, trying to forget his horrible experience at the orphanage. The door opened, and Adrian came in. He glanced around.

“Are you alone?” he lifted the right eyebrow while checking every corner.

“All alone,” Robert said, smirking as he also peeked around. Margo wasn’t there, nor Derek. “Why do you ask?” the boy inquired.

Bragging about staying with me all the time, Robert thought.

“If you don’t have any plans, would you like to go for a game?”

“Why not? I have nothing to do anyway,” Robert replied, his voice escalating two octaves.

Even if there was a two-year gap between them, Adrian had caught and exceeded Robert in height. He had inherited his chestnut hair from their mother. His glasses were covering his enormous eyes in a thin layer of grey shade, making it difficult to see his eyes.

As they occupied their places in front of the TV and Robert concentrated on setting the game, Adrian said, “Are you seeing someone?”

Robert’s joystick flipped and fell on the floor with a dry sound.

“Sorry. Aa, I wouldn’t say see,” Robert muttered.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s complicated,” the boy said and shivered at the thought of being in love with a ghost.

“Who is she?” Adrian continued. “Someone from school?”

“No one you know.” Robert closed the conversation abruptly. He closed his eyes for a second. Soft energy enveloped his body, making him burn. Images unwinded in his mind, his hungry hands touching Margo’s frail body, flickering stars burning in her ajar eyes, their jerky breathing at the end. Robert exhaled and clumsily manoeuvred the joystick.

Where is she? He wondered.

Lionette entered the door.

“Are you boys alright?”

The boys mumbled as moving the remote sticks left and right agilely. “Robert, I need to speak with you,” she said, glaring at the boy. Robert stopped in the middle of the game, looking helplessly at his ruined score. He sighed and left the sofa.

Lionette pulled him into the kitchen, not before assuring that nobody was in the hallway.

“What happened?” Robert asked while glaring at the woman's frowning forehead. The woman didn’t answer straight away; she sealed her lips with her forefinger and listened for a while to the sounds of the house. After ensuring they were alone, she glanced into the boy’s eyes.

“You said that you had met an angel,” she whispered in a modulated voice.

The boy nodded, “Yes.”

“Is he here?” the woman asked, her pupils dilated.

The boy looked around.

“No, not now.”

“Good. Listen to me. Today I have been to a crime scene. We have connections with the police,” Lionette felt the need to explain. “This is the second one without counting the one at the orphanage. Both victims are acquaintances of mine, from my youth.” The woman covered her chest with her left hand.

Robert stood there, approving every woman’s word, his mind trying to guess what was happening.

“I found this under the first victim,” Lionette continued as opening her fist. A small black feather was lying inside it. “The same under the second victim. My friend,” she stopped a bit and gulped a large quantity of air. “My friend Emily told me that there is no bird in the first victim’s house; neither in the second's.”

Robert studied the bend feather while listening to the woman’s story. He couldn’t stop to remark the soft woman’s voice as she pronounced her friend's name.

“What is her opinion?” Robert asked. “Emily’s,” he completed, accentuating the name.

Lionette didn’t speak.

“Haven’t had the chance to speak with her lately,” she said, swallowing the bitter lump inside her throat. “And I haven’t told her about it,” she confessed. “What do you think? That could be?”

“An angel wing feather?” Robert completed. “It could be,” he admitted as trying to remember Derek’s wings.

“Can you help me? I think someone is targeting me,” she muttered.

“I will,” Robert confirmed.

He waited all day for Derek to appear, but the angel didn’t show. Images of torn bodies flashed through his memory, followed by terrifying screams and lamentations. Somehow, his mind was flooded by the events in which the pendant took part. He glared at his reflection in the window glass. His wings were black too, covered in bright black feathers, reflecting dark grey shadows when touched by light. Their circumference was around eight feet, a hollow of pure black covering him.

“Admiring yourself?” Derek’s voice surprised the boy.

Robert said nothing, his eyes studying the angel’s face.

“It’s that your actual face?” the boy asked.

“No,” Derek responded.

“Can you show it to me? Your real one?”

Derek didn’t answer. He hated his face - his appearance, to be more exact. It wasn’t as the pictures in books depicted. It was grotesque, as death should look - terrifying, empty and disturbing. He blamed God for giving him a demon appearance instead of an archangel.

Well, why not? Derek thought. He waved his hand, and he and the boy teleported to an empty street. As soon as they put their feet on the ground, his genuine look took over. Even if the night had laid down, his clay face was glooming. His gigantic stature overcame the height of the trees. Thousands of bifurcated tongues crawled out from the void that should be his mouth, and just as many pairs of hypnotic eyes were glaring at Robert, their red irises shifting frenetically.

His wings were two giant, burning flames. Screams and laments from hell came out of his mouth. Crying voices filled the air surrounding Derek, telling the sorrow of millions of departed souls.

For a moment, Robert stared at the monster in front of him, his face petrified and his legs paralyzed. The heavenly key at his chest started pulsing and glowing.

It’s not him, he thought before passing out.

When he woke up, he was in his room, Margo beside him, caressing his forehead. He was shivering, his entire body cold and rigid. Derek’s face emerged before his eyes, making him grunt.