I'm No Angel

“So, you're...”

“Not an angel,” grumbled Carus, knowing from experience where she was going. Having wings doesn't make you an angel, he added silently to himself.

“But...”

“No.”

The girl, barely over thirteen years if he judged correctly and all long skinny limbs, pouted at his harsh tone and crossed her arms over her flat chest. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes then sighed, wondering just what the in all the hells he was doing. All he had meant to do was sneak into the building, take what he could sell, and then get back out without anyone being the wiser until morning.

That had been the plan, at least, until he had caught two others in the building- and obvious amateur thieves due to the fact that the had been using torches. Albeit he had an advantage over his fellows since he could see in low light but still.

Using a torch in a building built of wood was not only stupid but was just asking to be spotted by the guards.

In the end the idiot pair had apparently thought he had been a guard and that was why they had bolted, dropping their torch and setting fire to the entire building in the process. He had turned in the opposite direction, heading for the roof of the building with what little loot he had gotten, and that had been when he had found her. What shreds of his conscience were left had insisted on saving the sleeping girl he had managed to stumble over in his hurry because burning to death in a fire was one fate he didn't wish upon anyone.

Carus leaping from one of the windows with her in his arms and being forced to reveal his most hidden feature to reach the nearest roof had led them to their current conversation.

“So what are you then?” she asked in a snippy tone, breaking through his thoughts.

With a shrug, he answered, “I don't know and I don't really care either.”

“But,” the girl started again and Carus raised a hand, eyes narrowed angrily. He had been cheated of his expected loot for the night by those two idiots and he was displeased at himself. There were supposed to be no attachments in what he did, not when he or another of the real thieves he ran with could be picked up by guards at any time. That was what Ventin had taught him since he had come into the man's hands at seven years and he had lived by that code ever since.

“Look, kid,” he growled out, even though he wasn't her elder by much, “just get out of here and go home. You know what home is, right?”

“I'm not stupid!” she snapped in response, eyes flashing with a sudden fierce spirit. Then she pointed at the building that was starting to creak and groan as the flames consumed it and hissed, “And you just burnt my home down.”

Carus opened his mouth to protest that he wasn't that stupid but shrugged it off. Why in the hells did he care what she thought of him? Instead he asked, “You lived about a butcher's shop?”

The girl wrinkled her nose at his tone and corrected, “No, I lived above the butcher's shop. And where do you live that's so special?”

He smiled grimly at that and replied jokingly, “If I told you, I'd have to kill you,” though there was no indication in his tone that he was joking. After all, he had made it a habit to never give away exactly what he was feeling because it would give an advantage to one of his fellow thieves.

And if there was one thing Carus hated, it was someone to have one up on him.

She sniffed at that, a sound as equally imperious as any woman of noble birth could match. “That's so cliché. You sound like some villain from a kid's book.”

“Don't care,” said Carus, not even bothering to point out that she was a kid. He rose from where he had been crouched on the rooftop as the building finally gave in to the forces wanting to pull it down, straightening the half-cloak that hung around his shoulders. As he noticed her gaze on him again, he deliberately dropped his hand to the hilt of one of the daggers at his belt and gave her his best glower. “Find somewhere else to stay.”

Bending over, he picked up the bag that held what little loot he'd been able to get and stalked to the edge of the roof. But he paused, almost involuntarily, when she called out, “So I guess that means you're not my guardian angel?”

There was a bitter, disappointed tone in her young voice that Carus recognized all too well but he couldn't bring himself to care. He had spent every waking moment he could remember disappointed and bitter so it didn't surprise him that anyone else felt the same. So, stepping onto the edge of the roof, he looked over his shoulder at her and gave her a bitter smile.

“Sorry, kid,” said Carus as muscles along his back shifted, spreading his dark-feathered wings wide. “But, like I said, I'm no angel.”

With that he launched himself off of the roof without a thought to how she'd get down, pushing her aside for thoughts of the drab room he called home and figuring out how much gold his little bit of loot would earn him.