Once she locked up for the evening, she went upstairs to her apartment and fed her little black kitten Loki. Her mind drifted back to John Patrick, and she wondered what had happened to him. It wasn’t her job to meddle in the affairs of Balancers, but she had always been a curious cat as her father had called her, and it had gotten her in trouble more than once. She shook off the feeling; Balancers were off-limits, so he was probably on his way back to his posh Balancer Headquarters to report back about the punky little Fallen Angel who was of no help whatsoever. This thought made her smile. Good. Screw the higher-ups. She wanted no part of their grand scheme of things plan that they had going on. She pushed John Patrick out of her mind and went about her business as usual without a care to give about anyone except herself and Loki, her little black cat.
Chapter Three
Miles
Waiting around outside, Miles rechecked the time. Any minute now the Demon would arrive with his little serial killer and orchestrate the murder of the innocent family that lived in the house opposite where Miles was standing. An entirely dark deed to bring balance to the books. Miles smiled as the Demon appeared. No sooner had he shown up, than a car turned into the road, making its way slowly up to the house. The killer had just pulled up to the place—Miles was getting ready to tick off his to-do list—when out of nowhere, unbeknownst to the killer, an Angel appeared behind the Demon and promptly impaled him through the back with a long sword. The Demon fell to his knees and his body dissipated into a cloud of ash, returning to the hell he came from. Without his Demon to protect him, the killer didn’t even make it to the front door before, coincidentally, a police patrol car turned into the street, no doubt guided by the Angel, and caught him breaking into the house. They promptly arrested him and saved the family from their fate.
Miles shut his book angrily, invisible to the mortals and their celebrations, and glared at the Angel as he watched over his wards. The Angel didn’t seem to notice Miles and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived. Miles was about to leave himself when Jason appeared next to him.
“It’s happened again,” he said breathlessly.
“What has?” Miles snapped.
Jason was slightly taken aback but still answered, “Another Balancer has gone missing. John Patrick this time.”
Miles inclined his head; he knew John Patrick well, and he wasn’t a Balancer to be trifled with. He had a good clean record and was one of the oldest Balancers around. Miles frowned; combined with what he had just witnessed, things were starting to become suspicious. “Go to your quarters and practice your powers until I summon you,” he said before turning on the spot and disappearing without another word.
HEADQUARTERS WAS STERILE, that was the only way to explain it. Everyone was dressed appropriately in suits, everything was white and pure, and nothing was out of place; there was no noise. Everyone spoke in hushed tones if they needed to talk at all in the open. Miles had appeared at Headquarters—found between dimensions, lingering in a sort of purgatory between Heaven and Hell—many a time and was used to the blandness of it. He walked through the large white marble doors and the cold corridors towards the main hall where the elder Balancers sat. He didn’t wait; they would know he wanted an audience. They always just knew things, and hopefully, they would give Miles the answers he sought.
“Kraft,” Elder Hosp said from his place up high, as Miles walked in, “You come seeking answers to questions we already know.”
“Where are the Balancers disappearing to?” Miles asked.
“The disappearances perturb us,” the female, Elder Gillespie said, “for we cannot sense where they are or who it is that has taken them, nor for what reason.”
Miles looked between the ten elders and asked, “Has someone been sent to locate them?”
“John Patrick was sent, but he too is gone, last sensed at a Neutral Ground with a Fallen Angel and an Angel,” Elder Hosp said. “Something is afoot, something that is blocking even our ancient magic.”
“But how is that possible?” Miles asked.
“All things are possible, Kraft,” Elder Hopkins said. “As all things were, so all things could be.”
Miles tried not to get irritated as they started to speak in their riddles; it was just how they were.
“Can I have permission to do my investigations?” he questioned.
“You may, but we would advise you go incognito, perhaps as a different supernatural; it seems evil and neutral are not welcome in the city at this time,” Elder Gillespie advised.
Miles nodded and gave a short bow before strolling out of the hall, leaving them to talk amongst themselves. He turned left and walked towards their Primary Resources Department, where he knew he would find Tommy, their engineer. The latter would be able to assist him with a combination of magic and ingenuity to disguise Miles as some good-aligned supernatural. That way, he could sneak into the city, to the Neutral Ground John Patrick had visited, and he could see what was going on. As expected, the Resources Department was a mess, with clutter everywhere and the smell of smoke hanging about the air.
“Tommy?” Miles called out into the vast warehouse, raising his voice the second time, “Tommy?”
A clatter came from down one of the rows. “Yes, yes, I’m coming,” an impatient little imp of a Balancer said. Tommy strolled down the row dressed in dirty overalls with a pair of goggles over his eyes that made them look more significant than what they were.
“Ah, Miles, come to see my latest inventions have you?” Tommy asked.
“No,” Miles said shortly. “What I need is a disguise; can you assist me? Fae perhaps? Something good-aligned.”
“A disguise, eh? Going on a secret mission then?” Tommy said, motioning for Miles to follow him. “I can only really help you with an Angel; it’ll take a bit of magic to keep the wings attached and for them to not sense you’re out of place, but it’ll work. Just don’t use any of your Balancer powers while you’re in there. The wings will appear and disappear at will, but be careful; too many times and you’ll start losing feathers,” Tommy explained.
Miles nodded as Tommy led him to a strange-looking contraption that appeared to be like some type of space pod that could just fit a person inside of it.
“Well, get in,” Tommy said, opening the door.
Miles pulled a face. “In that?” he asked. “Are you serious?”
“Do you want to be an Angel or not?” Tommy questioned, exasperated.
“Fine,” Miles said, stepping into the slightly cramped space, stooping to fit in completely.
Tommy shut and locked the door and then called through the metal, “This might pinch a bit.” Miles was not reassured.
Lights began flashing inside the pod and Miles had to shut his eyes as his head began to ache from them. He felt a sharp pain in his back by his shoulders, and then a pinch, and then what felt like a hot knife slicing through his skin. Miles screamed in agony as his clothes ripped, but there wasn’t room for him to reach around to touch his back. As quickly as it had started, it stopped, and Tommy was opening the door.
“Sorry, it’s been a while since we’ve used it, so I forget just how painful it is, but there you go, one full set of Angel wings.”