Archer

June 6, 2011
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The boy walked along the sidewalk, his face covered by the shadow of his hood. As a car came down the road, he slipped into an alley, keeping his head down and body pressed against the wall until the headlights disappeared. He then continued down the street, training his eyes on the rooftops. In a flash, he saw movement a few building ahead of him. A smirk crooked his lips and he ran forward, ready to catch his prey.

Archer stepped out of the doorway into the shadows of the night, his bright indigo eyes sweeping the street.
“Archer!” a voice called from inside the house. He turned to see Sarah pushing her way through the crowd, towards him. When she finally made her way to his side, she gripped his arm and spoke loudly in his ear over the booming bass from the music.
“Where’re you goin’?” she slurred.
“Home,” he replied, trying to shake off her hand.
“But the fun’s just started!” Her face was flushed, making her freckles stand out even more than usual.
“Sorry, my parents wanted me back hours ago. Gotta go!” He finally broke away from her grasp and leaped down the stairs.
“See you tomorrow!” Sarah called her figure backlit from the lights of the party.
Archer waved and took off down the street. He shook his head, letting out a long breath. She had to have been pretty drunk to think he still had parents.
His high-tops made the gravel under his feet crackle, the echo bouncing eerily off the tight walls. Archer gazed up at the full moon peeking through the clouds, hoping it wasn’t a bad sign. Just then, the heavens decided to open up and rain down on him. He sighed. Great. His house was only a few blocks away and would only take five minutes to walk to. Hopefully no one decided to try to mug him.

He could smell his prey, only a few meters in front of him, not that he needed to. He could see just as well in the dark as daylight. In a few strides he was upon it, ready for the kill.

“S***!” Archer shook his doorknob, pounding his fist on the door. He’d locked himself out again. He rested his forehead against the door, thinking. Suddenly, he remembered that he always left his window on the top floor open. Archer shook some water out of his fair hair and started up the stairwell on the side of the building for emergencies. When he finally got to the top, he was out of breath ad sat on the landing a moment, resting.
That’s when he saw them.
There was someone- or rather, something- lying on the cement roof, blood flowing from a wound in his chest. Over him stood a boy, maybe seventeen of eighteen, covered from head to toe in dark clothing. Archer had to concentrate to see him in darkness, but there was one thing he couldn’t miss: the curved silver dagger in his hand, stained red.
In that moment, time seemed to slow, and many things happened at once. The boy with the dagger heard Archer’s breathing and turned, his dark hair spraying droplets of rain slowly through the air. But the thing that made Archer’s head run in endless circles were the glossy, onyx wings that unfurled from the boy’s back, spreading out fully in a fraction of a second.
Archer froze, his eyes widening into bright spheres in fear. Before he could blink, the dark form was above him, weapon poised to strike.
“W-what are you?” Archer managed to gasp. Suddenly pain exploded in his head and he fell back, gazing into the face of the killer. The last thing he saw was two silver slits glaring down at him.





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