Page 88 of Dance of the Phoenix
And just when I felt a Malachi’s hand scraping against my forearm, I forced myself with a jump through the portal and landed on the other side, hitting the ground with a loudthump!
I whipped my head back and saw the ripples in the air dissolving around a few Malachi hands that attempted to reach forward before the portal sealed itself completely, becoming a null.
Thank whatever divine being that’s up there that portals could only be used twice: for entrance and for exit.
Because that law of realm crossing had just saved my sorry ass.
My apartment in Portland, Oregon, was the furthest thing from neat, tidy, and welcoming. Dusty, full of cobwebs, with barely hinged doors and a creaky, sticky floor, it would easily fail any biohazard test with flying colors.
Gently putting my bag on the least-dirty surface—coffee table, of all things—I limped into the shower. As the water cascaded over my head, surprisingly warm despite the state of this place (and the water heater), I checked my left ankle. An ugly blue-and-purple spot blossomed on the skin, which told me it probably was broken.
Grimacing, I quickly washed my skin and rinsed it, grabbing a clean-enough towel to wipe myself dry before I limped to the dank bedroom naked (but with flip-flops, because I wasn’t that careless). When I tried to open the ancient closet, the left door came loose, and I had to put it on the floor.
Evidently, this apartment needed more than a simple cleaning. But since I was tight on money at the moment, it would have to wait. It wasn’t like I used this apartment a lot anyway.
Getting dressed in fresh, surprisingly dustless jeans and a V-neck shirt, I put on my beat-up sneakers and went to the little balcony at the back of the apartment. Funnily enough, the chair and table there were less dirty than the ones inside.
Sitting down, I looked at the road below, where many homeless people set up camp. This neighborhood was one of the worst when it came to homelessness and increased crime rates, which would be a problem for a regular person. Thanks to my abilities, I was able to take care of myself in that regard.
Leaning against the chair and closing my eyes, I used one of my aforementioned abilities to sift through the data I’d just risked my life a few hours ago to get.
Psychometryis the power to read an object by creating a point of contact—even the slightest touch would do. That’s exactly what I did when my palms touched Theorius’s chest. I created a link, a channel for my mind to reach out to his, or in that case to force myself inside and take what I needed.
Now, I was going to use the other aspect of psychometry—calledcognokinesis.
I fell into the depths of my mind, though more specifically into the mental chamber where the memories I collected gathered. It was shaped like a neat warehouse filled with wooden shelves stocked to the brim with glowing white orbs. There were so many orbs now, after my encounter with Theorius, that the orbs filled the floor.
I sighed. There was nothing more tedious than organizing this chamber. It always left me utterly exhausted, which staying in the space within one’s mind tended to do. But organizing could wait.
I sent my mental hands toward the orbs on the floor. Picking them up was the same as trying to hold air, only this air was solid enough forme to lift. I then peeked into the memory-filled orbs, looking for the relevant information.
This process took some time, since when I first used my psychometry on Theorius, the memories I took were all over the place with no concrete theme. It was only when I precisely looked for the keywords-affiliated memories that I received what I needed. However, finding the latter was quite the task.
But I had all night to do this, so I took a physical breath and got right into it.
The first memory orb I activated took me into the amphitheater at the palace in Haramon. It was Theorius’s most recent memory of the trial I’d witnessed, only in this memory, I saw it from his point of view.
And when I saw the Malachi Felleya’s pretty face looking so lifeless, it made my stomach churn.
But Theorius’s emotions remained silent. He was a Seraph, after all. He was as emotionally detached as the rest of them.
The next memory was of Theorius speaking to a few Cherubs. I heard him using the language I didn’t understand, probably teaching the Cherubs something, if I went by the classroom setting.
On and on, I delved into Theorius’s memories, looking for my objective. It wasn’t until I was about halfway through when I finally found it.
The memory began with Theorius walking through a snowy forest. His wings were nestled together with a ribbon wrapped around them, probably so they wouldn’t get dirty or something like that.
It also told me this forest must not be in Haramon. Otherwise why would he bother walking and not flying? Much like vampires, the Malachi and other supernatural races preferred to keep their existence a secret from humans. A flying Malachi would definitely get attention.
Though some rare Malachi had the power to turn invisible, which made flying without being detected much easier. Specifically, I knew exactly one Malachi who could do that.
Internally shaking my head so I wouldn’t think abouthim, I returned my attention to the memory.
Theorius reached a small town. It seemed European in style, like those off-the-grid countryside villages in eastern Europe. Maybe Hungary? Or perhaps Kosovo? It could definitely be somewhere in the Balkans.
Either way, Theorius lingered at the edge of the town, obviously waiting for someone. When a figure walked out of one of the houses and headed toward us—Theorius and me seeing this from his point of view—I knew this was the person we were waiting for.
The person, a small, bald man with crystal clear eyes, smiled up at Theorius. “It is good to see you, Malachi,” he said in perfect English. Rare for these parts to find someone who spoke English, let alone without a hint of accent.
