Too little too late.
She found the motel about an hour too late. There was nothing left, not even a damned whisper of living angelic presence. After kicking in the door of the room, Morrigan strode inside, hands on her hips, seething. Slippery little winglies, so smug and smart. Bunch of pissants, more like.
God, but she'd hoped to get here just in time to drive a knife through the dying bastard's throat, maybe help his sorry ass along as much as she could. Because let's face it, that would have been the only way she'd have gotten any satisfaction. But it would have done the trick.
She stomped about the room, eyes catching the small telltale signs of former residency; the maid hadn't been in to clean and sterilize, so there were candy wrappers and hazelnut coffee packets still in the wastebasket - shit, but those pesky angels loved their sugar highs. Her lip curled in a sneer as she caught sight of a few gray-black hairs still lying atop the counter.
Morrigan stalked around the motel room, fingering the sharp knife sheathed at her waist. There was nothing left here, nothing worth her time anyway. Heading for the door, growling under her breath, a slight movement caught her eye and she paused, twitching aside the curtain and chuckling at what lay just under the heavy fabric.
A single black feather.
Gingerly picking it up with two fingers, she gazed thoughtfully at it as she exited the room, closing the door behind her. She was still contemplating the meaning as she sauntered across the parking lot, the motel behind her suddenly exploding in flames.
[-sets black feather on fire-]
God, but she'd hoped to get here just in time to drive a knife through the dying bastard's throat, maybe help his sorry ass along as much as she could. Because let's face it, that would have been the only way she'd have gotten any satisfaction. But it would have done the trick.
She stomped about the room, eyes catching the small telltale signs of former residency; the maid hadn't been in to clean and sterilize, so there were candy wrappers and hazelnut coffee packets still in the wastebasket - shit, but those pesky angels loved their sugar highs. Her lip curled in a sneer as she caught sight of a few gray-black hairs still lying atop the counter.
Morrigan stalked around the motel room, fingering the sharp knife sheathed at her waist. There was nothing left here, nothing worth her time anyway. Heading for the door, growling under her breath, a slight movement caught her eye and she paused, twitching aside the curtain and chuckling at what lay just under the heavy fabric.
A single black feather.
Gingerly picking it up with two fingers, she gazed thoughtfully at it as she exited the room, closing the door behind her. She was still contemplating the meaning as she sauntered across the parking lot, the motel behind her suddenly exploding in flames.
[-sets black feather on fire-]