Ambriel wasn't like John. His healing didn't follow the protocol of spells or the procedures of magic. Ambriel barely knew he had healing powers and had never honed his powers. Still, in a pinch, even raw and unfocused, it had an effect. As Ambriel lifted Alex off the bed, his hands connected with the boy, the glow spreading into Alex's body, a surge of light entering him.
"He needs to be to taken to a hospital." Ambriel's strong arms cradled the boy close to his body. It was amazing how light Alex was: the boy was so energetic and verbal that you stopped noticing that he was so slight of stature.
There was a hospital six blocks away. Ambriel had memorized their immediate surroundings from a map back at the school, not wanting to be lost. His efforts had been rendered moot by the sheer size of the city and the omnipresence of the subway and the yellow cabs, but right now, Ambriel was glad he knew where the hospital was.
The quickest way would be in a straight line north. Too bad there were too many buildings in the way.
Ambriel approached problems with all the finesse of a meat cleaver. Without hesitating or thinking of the consequences, without wondering how many people would see him, Ambriel strode to the doors of the balcony. The glamour on his wings faded as he spread them. "The hospital is called Mount Sinai. It's on..." Ambriel quickly remembered. "...10th and 58th. Come find us, quickly. Bring Alex's stuff."
The doors were pushed open and Ambriel stepped out, into the cool air of the New York evening. With a few flaps of his wings, Ambriel and Alex were gone, the angel having taken to the twilit sky.