Convoke

Chapter 47

Ezra watched as Tom weaved through the crowds of people to get to the bakery stall. He watched him intensely, hoping nobody made any snarky comments about him along the way. With his nerves, Ezra felt a little temperamental, almost as if he could snap and punch someone for even looking at Tom in a disgusted way.

When he got to the stall, and the woman treated Tom like some sort of criminal, Ezra had to remove himself. He felt the rage coursing through him in a way he couldn't control. And he didn't like to lose control.

The anger that came with being a demon was one that controlled them. It came in short hot bursts of fury. Once it was there, he was likely to lose his composure. He didn't want to end up snapping at Tom, nor did he want to end up fighting on his behalf.

So, he wandered away from the crowds and paced back and forth until his impulsions had settled. He could cope with people staring at him, but he couldn't cope with them judging Tom. He was such a sweet and kind soul, who deserved nothing but respect and love.

Ezra hated seeing the way people treated him. He hated that he was partly responsible for Tom's suffering. But being with him was like a drug. Tom accepted him, he really accepted every part of Ezra. Even before he knew that Ezra had once been angel, Tom had fallen in love with him.

He exhaled slowly, feeling lighter with each long breath. He stopped crouching and ran a hand through his hair, almost ready to return to Tom, and to keep a look out for any trouble.

Until he heard screaming.

Loud petrified screaming oozed from the street behind the library. Ezra spun on his heels, and ran across the cobbles, skidding to a halt when he saw two women on the ground in front of the stage for the angel's choir.

One held a bloody wound on her shoulder, the other backed away as a booming voice echoed from the fair, announcing that the angel's choir would begin very soon.

Ezra's hands trembled.

This time, the attacker was still there. What looked like an angel in a long white robe with a large hood had crouched to pick up a long bloody knife.

"Hey!" Ezra roared, and the figure spun around, but he couldn't see their face because of the hood. They dropped the knife and sprinted away. Instead of running to the injured woman, Ezra ran after the attacker.

With his big strides, it didn't take long for him to catch up and tackle them to the floor, scuffing knees and elbows. The person grunted as the angels appeared on the stage, and crowds of locals and tourists turned the corner, ready for the choir.

"Let go!" a familiar voice yelled under the hood. Ezra realised that no angel had committed the crime.

He stuck his knee into the persons back and ripped the hood down, as angels swarmed the two women on the ground before the public could overwhelm them.

Someone gasped behind him. Tom had pushed through the crowd and hurried over. He crouched by Ezra, confused and troubled. "Gerry?" Tom whispered, the name trembling on his lips.

Othrowan crouched in front of them, looking between Ezra and Gerry pinned to the ground. "Explain out loud," he demanded loudly.

Ezra stumbled on his words as he desperately tried to tell him what he had seen, and to make a point of telling him that it wasn't him. He didn't do it, and he would not be accused of it again. "I saw him! He had the knife in his hand. A-And look, he's pretending to be an angel. He has stollen one of your robes."

Othrowan quickly pulled the hood back over Gerry's face before the public could see who Ezra had captured. "Go inside the library, both of you. Wait for me there-"