Wrenge (12) by Louise Dragon
Switching duties with other officers, Brad traded for a few consecutive weeks of eleven to seven, afternoon shifts.
By seven-thirty each night he staked out the desserted park near Mount Mariah, familiarizing himself with the creature's habits.
Every night between eight and midnight, the creature appeared. Most nights it lazily circled the mountain for about thirty minutes, like a health nut grabbing a half-hour jog.
Toward the end of the week, Brad watched it fly off toward Memphis on silent, dark wings. He waited for it to circle back like all the other nights. It didn't.
Two hours later, as Brad sat dozing uneasily in his car, a low cry echoed eerily through the empty gorge. Exhausted, Brad had slipped into a precarious state of slumber fraught with dreams and images. In his dream, he stepped out of his car and stood face to face with the mysterious Wrenge. She was so beautiful, in a sad way. Tears pooled in her ink blot eyes and coursed down across plum-colored naked flesh. "Why do you watch me, mortal?" The whispered words floated gracefully from the perfect lips of the dark angel. "Do your loins ache with loneliness as do mine?"
In his dream, Brad looked down and found himself naked also. Naked and bristling with fear and excitement. Leathery wings folded around his trembling body with the cool delicate touch of a familiar lover. His release was sweet and satisfying . . .
The patter of small pebbles rolling across rock jerked Brad back to reality and told him that the creature had returned.
Looking up, Brad picked up the vague figure posed on the cliff's edge like a misplaced statue. Its faintly iridescent silhouette reflected pinpoints of starlight with chameleon adeptness. The Wrenge blended into the night sky with shrewd efficiency.
The form remained motionless for perhaps five minutes.
Moisture beaded on Brad's hands, but he dared not move a muscle.
Almost invisibly, the dark angel glided out of sight.
Continued . . .
Link to Wrenge (1)
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