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There was no indication of any visual or audio surveillance of our home or phones. The only visual spying was a camera they had mounted at one end of their property. It was focused on the road my families drove to town, so they'd presumably be able to monitor our comings and goings to know when to send a team out to follow us. They were living not far southeast of our home, on the other side of a small hill. The hill meant they couldn't directly observe my home, but it also meant they were hidden from observation from my home back to theirs. I suspected the latter consideration had been uppermost in their minds when they'd chosen this place. If I was a baddie, I wouldn't want to be living in direct line of sight of the angel either, given its previous history of uncovering baddies.I'd seen enough, and my families would be worried, so I rode home on the bike. I left my car at OSU, not willing to use it until it'd been checked for bombs or other nasty surprises. I hadn't seen anything. I could see the sky, the dark thunderous clouds, the lightning striking across the sky and the tops of the trees. My body began turning and I could see the ocean below me. The dark waves crashing against the rocks below, the ocean, angered by the approaching storm. I was snapped back to reality by a sharp pain, and presumed it was just a large scratch from one of the branches. No point worrying about it now. It wasn’t until I stopped falling that I realised it wasn’t a cut. I looked at my arm and it was bleeding quite heavily. I followed the four deep wounds that carved their way up my arm and saw what they had been caused by. There was a hand grabbing onto my wrist, but it wasn’t an ordinary hand. This hand had claw like nails. I slowly made myself look further up the very well defined and well muscled arm until I saw who it was, or rather what it was, that was stopping me from falling. It was J.T., but he looked different. His usually shaggy dark hair was wild and had little bits.
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