The acrid smell of blood and fear permeated the alley as Lana's trembling hands gripped the ivory white bones protruding from the alley man's legs. Her knuckles turned white with effort as she pulled, muscles straining against the unyielding spears that have pinned him to the ground. Sweat beaded on her forehead, a mixture of exertion and barely contained panic.

"Come on," she muttered through gritted teeth, her voice a harsh whisper in the oppressive silence of the night.

The bones just didn’t budge. Lana took in a deep breath, the coppery tang of blood filling her nostrils. She switched tactics, grasping the man's ankle. His skin was clammy and cold beneath her fingers, a sign of his life running short. With a grunt, she lifted his leg, carefully maneuvering it up and over the protruding bone. The sight of torn flesh and exposed muscle made her stomach churn, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand, keeping her insides inside.

As the first leg came free, a wave of relief washed over her. The second followed more easily, accompanied by a sickening squelch that echoed in the narrow alley. Lana's heart pounded in her chest, each beat a reminder of the surreal nightmare she's found herself in.

With the man free, she grasped the bones again. Someone will find them and ask questions, she tells herself, finding reason to even bother. Without the encasing of flesh and tight muscle holding the spear solidly in place, she was able to twist and tilt and leverage the bone spear loose from its asphalt scabbard. The second came out just as easily.

Dragging the unconscious man proved to be an even greater challenge. His dead weight seemed to increase with every inch. Lana's arms and back screamed in protest as she pulled him across the rough concrete. She took frequent breaks, gasping for air, her lungs burning with each ragged breath. The journey felt endless, time stretching like elastic, her exhaustion and fear mounting.

The alley's shadows danced menacingly in the dim streetlight, and every distant sound made Lana flinch. She couldn't shake the image of the attacker, his arm warping and tearing impossibly as a bone spear formed and launched towards her and again as the monster impaled the man from the alley. The memory sent a shiver down her spine, spurring her to move faster despite her aching muscles.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was likely only minutes, Lana managed to get the man inside. The harsh fluorescent lights of the bathroom cast everything in a sickly, unreal glow. She leaned against the wall, chest heaving, as she surveyed the scene before her. The stark contrast between the sterile white tiles and the spreading pools of blood was jarring, making the situation feel even more surreal.

The man lay motionless on the grimy tile floor, his clothes soaked with blood. Lana's mind raced, trying to recall any first aid she learned in her classes. They were media classes, nothing relevant to the case now. In high school though, she had taken a first aid class and she drew on those lectures.

With shaking hands, she gathered what supplies she could find; cleaning towels, rubber bands, anything that might serve as makeshift bandages.

As she worked to stem the bleeding, every tightening of the improvised dressings caused the man to grunt or groan. The sounds, though painful, were oddly reassuring, at least he was still alive. Lana's fingers fumbled with the rubber bands, slick with blood and sweat. She muttered encouragements to herself, trying to keep the rising tide of panic at bay.

"You're okay, you're okay," she chanted, unsure if she was talking to the injured man or herself. The strong smell of cleaning chemicals stored in the bathroom mingled with the metallic scent of blood, making her feel light headed. But Lana pressed on, driven by a determination she didn't know she possessed.

After securing the last bandage, Lana sat back on her heels, exhausted. She closed her eyes for a moment of silent contemplation and rest. When she opened them again, she noticed the man's eyes were open, watching her with a mix of confusion and wariness. His gaze was intense, brown eyes sharp despite the pain he must have been in. There's something about those eyes; a depth, an age that seems at odds with his apparent youth.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice hoarse and uncertain.

Lana let out a bark of laughter, bordering on hysterical. "I was going to ask you the same thing when you woke up," she replied, running a hand through her disheveled hair and tucking an unruly strand behind her ear.

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The man took his time responding, his hands gingerly explored the blood soaked bandages around his legs. His eyes darted around the small bathroom, taking into disarray of the blood spattered toilet and sink that Lana used to dispose of bandages too soiled to be of any use. Lana watched him, noting the way his brow furrows in concentration, the slight twitch of his jaw as he processed the situation. There was a certain grace to his movements, even while injured, that seemed almost inhuman.

"I was in the alley," he finally said, his words slow and measured. "You moved me here? Bandaged me up? Alone?"

"Sure did," Lana confirmed, her voice steadier than she felt. "I couldn't leave you or the bones stapled to the ground out back. That wouldn't be right." She paused, then added with a hint of anxious desperation, "Now can you please answer my question? I'm kind of freaking out inside." Lana leaned forward, her hands, she noticed, were still trembling slightly, and she clasped them together to hide it.

The man's expression softened slightly, a look of compassion crossing his features. "I suppose I should thank you for your help," he said, his voice carrying a weight that seemed to go beyond mere gratitude.

He met her gaze, and for a moment, Lana felt as if those brown eyes were peering into her very soul. The silence between them was heavy with unspoken questions and barely contained fear. Lana became acutely aware of every sensation around her, the cold tile beneath her, the ache in her muscles, the rapid beating of her heart.

"I'm afraid you won't believe me if I answer your question," he finally stated, his voice low. "It's not normal."

Lana's laugh was sharp and brittle. "That guy grew a bone out of his arm and threw it at me!" she exclaimed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Pinned you into the ground with bone spears. Nothing is normal right now."

The man nodded slowly, a hint of a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "You're right," he conceded, rubbing his head. "My name is Ebon. For the last, I don't even know how long, I have been tasked to find and destroy things like that man. You might call him a demon, an agent of Satan. And I, you would call, an angel or an agent of God."

"Bull," Lana snorted, trying to cover a small tremor in her voice that betrayed her uncertainty. The word angel echoed in her mind, and she found herself studying Ebon more closely. There was no halo above his head, no wings on his back. Just a man, battered and bloodied. How could he be an angel?

"Not bull," Ebon confirmed. He places his hands on the floor, preparing to stand. Lana watched as he grimaced, his face contorted with pain. Without thinking, she moved to help him, supporting his weight as he struggled to his feet. His body was warm against hers, solid despite his injuries and the feel of his skin earlier. There was a strange energy about him, a barely perceptible hum that made the hairs on the back of Lana's neck stand up.

Once upright, Ebon continued, his voice strained but earnest. "I'm not very good at it, I'm afraid. I've been doing this since the fall of Rome, and I still haven't figured it out.”

He looked at Lana, surprise flickering across his features as he took in her bland, suspicious expression. "I assure you, miss, I am not lying. I told you that you wouldn't believe me."

"Lana," she interjected, her tone flat.

Ebon blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Excuse me?"

"My name is Lana. Not miss," she clarified, crossing her arms over her chest. The normalcy of introducing herself grounded her, a small island of sanity in this sea of insanity.

A small smile played at the corners of Ebon's mouth. "It was etiquette, Lana," he said, his tone softening. He raised his hand to his head, his smile dropping suddenly, “I don't remember. The demon, what happened to him? I can't recall what happened after he impaled me.”

Lana stared at him blankly before answering. “A white light.” She scoffed, “blinding white light. Threw that thing down the whole alley. You don't remember doing that?”

“A white light?” He confirmed her question. “No, I do not remember. It's eerie.” He pondered, turning his attention to the bloody sink, where the two calcified bones lie amidst the crimson stains. "Can I take these bones?" he asked, gesturing with a finger. "I have an associate who might be able to help me find this demon if he can identify those bones. Are you planning on using them?"

Lana shook her head, watching as Ebon carefully pocketed the bones. The surreal nature of the situation hit her anew, here she was, standing in a blood soaked bathroom with a man claiming to be an angel, casually discussing demon hunting and magical bones. She felt as if she stepped into some bizarre poorly written urban fantasy novel.

"Very good," Ebon said, straightening up with a wince. "I'll need to go now. Will you be alright?"

Lana took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. Her mind made up a decision that will change the course of her life forever. "I'll be more than alright," she answered, her voice steady and determined. "I've just spent the night saving you from a bone throwing demon. I'm covered in blood, I'm pretty sure I'm in shock, and nothing makes any sense anymore. But I know one thing for sure. I'm not letting you leave me here alone. Whatever this is, whatever's going on, I'm coming with you."

Ebon's eyebrows shot up in surprise and for a long moment, he studied her, his brown eyes searching her slender face. Lana met his gaze unflinchingly, her heart pounding but her resolve unwavering. She could almost see the internal debate playing out behind his eyes. The desire to protect her from any danger hunting this demon would bring warring with the recognition of her resolute determination to follow.

Finally, he nodded, a mix of respect and resignation in his expression. "Very well," he said softly.