Justice For The Fallen ✓

10. Melkyal

Sannarah did not look happy. Even though Albie seemed excited, every time she looked at me, it was with an annoyed glare. I rubbed my neck in confusion. She was taking care of those orphanage children, so I thought she would be content with the prospect of getting them needed aid. Angels of Compassion served at local churches to help those in need. I understood that Sanna might be too proud to seek help from our kind, but it was for the sake of those poor children.

I sighed. I was anxious to follow the trail of the murderer, but as Sanna pointed out, the sun had just reached the zenith, so he was surely somewhere in hiding. She also mentioned that she had a means to track him down, which I suspected was this Hell Hound she ordered to stay close. But as a creature of the night, it also could only appear after the sunset. That meant we needed to bide our time until then. We could help the boy out in the meantime.

When we reached the end of an alley, Sanna turned to us with a frown on her face.

"We are here." She crouched in front of Albie and put her clawed hand gently on his shoulder. "Are you absolutely certain you want to do this? The chance that it will do you any good is almost nonexistent."

The boy smiled. His mouth seemed to be almost too wide for his little face. "Don't worry about me, Sanna. I have tough skin. You know, scales and all. And if things get bad, I can easily outrun them all."

"Let's hope it won't come to that." Sanna patted his bald head and got back to her feet. She turned to me and crossed her arms. "I'm not going with you, as my presence would do more harm than good. I don't know what you think will happen there, Golden Boy, but you better keep him safe. You don't want to see me angry."

I always thought all Fallen were selfish creatures focused on fulfilling their own whims and desires. I couldn't have been more wrong. Still, it baffled me when I saw this peculiar demon showing such apparent signs of caring for others.

I put a hand over my heart. "I swear no harm will come to Albie while in my care. Besides, we are not heading into a battle. We'll go there, get some food and be back in no time."

"I wish it were so easy," she murmured and sidestepped, gesturing for us to go.

I offered my hand to the boy, and he grabbed it enthusiastically. His palm was rough as if he had worked hard his whole life, but his skin was naturally covered with scale-like calluses. It was still a child's hand, so I squeezed it as we made our way out of the alley into a large, busy square.

The place was pretty busy, but most people crowded in front of the little church. A couple of tables were set up there, with large steaming cauldrons. Women in simple white dresses distributed bowls of soups and handfuls of bread. As we approached the gathering, I scrunched my nose at the fetor of unwashed bodies and cheap alcohol.

Most gathered here were beggars in ragged clothes and bodies ruined by years of living in extreme poverty. A couple of women came too, holding little bundles tight to their chests or pulling scrawny little children. They all looked half-starved, but their empty and dull eyes brightened when they looked toward church servants working tirelessly and handing out food.

The Angels of Compassion gave them both sustenance and the hope of surviving yet another day.

Albie pulled his hood lower over his face to avoid other people's stares. His little hand became cold and clammy. I squeezed it reassuringly. "It's all right. Nothing to be afraid of here."

The boy nodded but kept his face hidden. The serving girl's eyes went wide when we finally got to the tables. She was young, and I don't think I'd ever seen her, but she surely recognised me, considering her reaction.