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Description
Fallen part 5; Awakening

     It was only 6:30 in the morning, but already a thick cloak of solemnity had enveloped the day. The heavy rains of the storm had slowed and subsided, but dark clouds still hovered over the city as a bleak reminder of the previous day’s downpour. Tendrils of misty fog wrapped the bay in a sense of ominous foreboding that affected all who gazed over the hectic harbor below. Even if the sun had already reached the crest of the horizon, it would not have been visible through the murky haze that sheltered the sky.
     Richard was trapped in a fitful sleep. Although the circles under his eyes darkened with each passing night and his body throbbed with exhaustion, it could not find the peaceful place it desired. He thrashed convulsively, legs helplessly twisting in the cotton sheets until they ripped with a sickening tear. Richard was jolted upright, once again roused from the hellish slumber he had come to accept. He slumped forward and lowered his head into his white hands as a flood of dreams from the previous night washed over him. Dreams that left his head wheeling, spinning, trying to comprehend, others in which he wished with all his strength that he was blessed with the luxury of confusion again.
Richard breathed in deeply, more to calm himself and brush away the unnerving images that ran through his head than out of the need for oxygen. He glanced down at his hands and noticed how vigorously they were trembling. This was not how Richard wished to start the day, a day when he needed to be more alert and posses more strength than any another. This was the battle. A battle so desperately vital, a battle he knew he had to win, despite the cards being heavily stacked against him. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t let the Maison de Sang claim yet another innocent life. Not one so breathtakingly beautiful and pure. Not Anastasia’s. Richard made up his mind; he was going to do everything in his power to make certain she came out alive and preferably unhurt from this mess. He almost cracked a smile as he realized the unhurt might be a bit of a stretch, considering how much damage had been inflicted on her in the past 46 hours.
     Heaving a weary sigh, Richard lifted his head from his hands and took stock of his surroundings. The room was dim, only a few wan rays of early morning light had penetrated through a thin crack in the dark, heavy drapes. He glanced towards the end of his wooden four-poster bed and gasped, his jaw falling open in shock. Astonishment crept up beside him and slapped him across the cheek without his knowledge. Anastasia stood at the foot of the bed, still dressed in his sweatpants and t-shirt. Her wide blue eyes glistened with fear as she met his gaze; her entire frame trembled as her long, delicate fingers clutched the footboard for support. Richard pulled himself into a sitting position and quickly raked a hand through his disheveled black hair, brushing the strands from his eyes.
“Good morning… what’s up?” Richard’s voice was thick with drowsiness, for exhaustion still clouded his mind.
“Good morning.” Anastasia responded in whisper, ducking her head so a wave of golden hair obscured her face.
“May I ask why you’re standing at the foot of my bed?” he questioned, looking up at her expectantly. His voice was now smooth, like velvet, even though he wasn’t fully awake.
“I… I… remembered something. About my past,” Her voice was barely audible as she avoided Richard’s curious stare.
“What did you remember?” Richard cringed as his words came out in a rush. At this point, anything about her past would be useful, but he had a suspicion that she hadn’t remembered something good.  He could hear Anastasia’s heart thudding unevenly against her rib cage.
   “I fell.” Tears began to stream down her cheeks, some plummeting and pooling on the wooden floorboards. Richard slumped back into the pillows and sighed. He had truly hoped her memory could offer something important, something that could save her life. He sat, watching the tears roll down her face, his head spinning. He didn’t understand why she was so upset, why the simple recollection of falling caused her such distress. Everyone falls; you just have to pick yourself up and walk it off. But Anastasia was acting like it was an extreme problem. Richard couldn’t comprehend it, he knew she was strong; she had survived an interrogation room full of vampires! Something a normal person couldn’t do. Suddenly he froze, his mind lingering over the key words of his last thought… normal person… What if she wasn’t a normal person? What if she wasn’t a person at all? Richard shook his head, trying to piece together all the infinitesimal bits of information he knew about he, trying to sort through the mixed puzzle pieces of Anastasia’s identity, trying to complete the puzzle. He came back to reality just as Anastasia sunk to the floor, weeping brokenly, arms wrapped tightly around her abdomen as if struggling to hold herself together. Richard kicked, attempting to untangle the cotton sheets that constricted around his long legs, binding him to the bed.
“Damn it,” he cursed under his breath as he stumbled onto the icy floor. He righted himself, regained his balance, and hurried to Anastasia’s side. He kneeled beside her and reached down, gently lifting her face to his. He gazed down into her icy blue eyes, amazed at how often they changed color.
“Don’t cry,” he murmured, tenderly wiping away her tears.
“How can I not cry? They’re going to kill me!” Anastasia gasped out between sobs, her spine arching as her body shook with terror. Richard stroked her back, attempting to console her, but she continued to cry.
“No no no! You are not going to die. That’s not going to happen. I won’t let them hurt you.” Richard reassured in a comforting tone. As Anastasia lay curled on the floor, Richard moved slowly, as not to frighten her. He gently eased his arms around her shaking form and scooped her up. He could feel the warmth radiating from her body as he cradled her against his chest. She was so soft, so breakable, so delicate. He stepped over to the bed and carefully lowered Anastasia onto the edge of the down mattress.  He sat down beside her and pulled her close to him. She leaned her head against her chest, her tears dampening the cotton fabric of his dark t-shirt.
“Everything’s going to be ok.” Richard’s voice was steady, calm, serene, seeking to support her, even though he knew with all his heart that the last statement was untrue. He slowly rubbed her back, closing his eyes, trying with all his strength to understand why she was there, why such a perfect girl had been condemned to such a fate. He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her in an embrace of safety as she came to terms with the odds stacked against her life.
“Everything will be all right.” He repeated, this time as a whisper, half-trying to convince himself. He could still feel Anastasia’s heart racing, stricken with terror. He ran a hand through her hair, a waterfall of golden silk, stroking the ends with tender fingertips.
“Anastasia…” Richard murmured into the thick wilderness of her hair, “Can you tell me anything more about why you fell? Anything at all?” Anastasia’s head lifted, her eyes meeting his, which were brimming with concern. He was trying to understand what was wrong. Anastasia sadly shook her head, blinking back the fresh wave of tears that threatened to overflow.
“Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.” His smooth voice danced in her head as she breathed, calming, reassuring herself, regaining a firm hold on her emotions. Richard waited a moment, clutching her to him until her heartbeat returned to its usual rate. Presently Anastasia pulled back, her face still wet with leftover salty teardrops. Glancing at the nightstand, Richard’s eyes lighted on the glowing red numbers of the clock; 7:06.
“Come on, let’s get you something to eat.” Richard lightly laid a hand on Anastasia’s slim shoulder. Guiding her with his gentle touch, he led her towards the heavy wooden door of the bedroom. He spun the knob and swung the door open, steering her down the marble staircase. The smooth stone cool on the soles of her bare feet, the archway entrance to the modern kitchen loomed ahead, promising a meal, comfort, and a tiny, faint hope for survival. Richard sat her down at the round chestnut table.
Anastasia laid her head on the cold table, clearly disturbed by the vision that had presented itself to her in her sleep. Richard folded her arms over his chest, an anxiety driven sigh escaped from his lungs. He could almost watch the life being pulled from her soul. Gently Richard rested a reassuring hand on her slightly shaking shoulder,
    “Is there anything I can get you?” he asked softly, so as to not shock her in her fragile state. Anastasia shook her head against the table's dark surface. She let her golden hair fall over her face reveling her back. Richard’s breath caught in his throat coming out in a strangled gasp, as he stumbled back. Reaching out to the countertop for support, Richard could not rip his eyes away from Anastasia’s back. Two ghastly wounds ran down her otherwise flawless back. The scar tissue was fairly new, no more than two days old. Richards’s eyes were glued to her. They looked almost identical, both about five inches long. Anastasia raised her head, sensing something was wrong. Turning around she caught sight of Richard stabilizing himself on the marble counter fear and confusion spread through his dark blue eyes, his face paler than she had ever seen.
     “w-w-w-whats wrong?” she shuddered as Richard’s stunned gaze tracked across from her back to finally lock upon her eyes.
     “What happened to your back?” for the first time Anastasia’s voice sounded stronger than his. Anastasia looked at him confused,
     “What are you talking about?” Richard pushed himself away from the counter, “did Alex do that to you?” his eyes filled with a fiery hate.
     “Do what to me? What are you talking about?” Anastasia stood to face Richard confusion written across her face.
     “Here, come with me” Richard grabbed her hand. Nearly dragging her to the bathroom, Richard spun her around so her back faced the mirror and moved her hair so she could also see the scars.
    “Those.” Richard’s voice was little more than a whisper as he watched Anastasia’s face transform from confusion to fear then acceptance. She shrugged,
    “I have no idea.” she replied softly as Richards gaze bore into hers.
    “Did Alex do this to you?” this time his voice demanded an answer, his blue eyes nearly black with a fiery glow.
    Anastasia looked into the mirror, starring at the scars,
    “No, Alex did not.” Her voice was weak next to Richard’s now threatening tone.
    “Then who did?” Richard’s voice was unchanged.
    “I have no idea. All I know is I fell.” This time Anastasia’s voice was powerful as her blue eyes sent a chill through Richard. Backing off he took his hands off her shoulders and folded them across his chest, a worried sigh escaping through his lips.
“You fell?” Richard questioned as his eyes slowly regained their original color. Anastasia nodded her head.
     “And somehow you got these scars, but you don’t know how?” his gaze flickered to the twin gashes on her back, as the words came out as little more than a whisper, he had never seen scars like that before in his entire life, but something seemed familiar, though what it was he couldn’t place. Anastasia watch as Richard’s eyes suddenly widened, as he realized what had happen to her. Sprinting out of the bathroom he bolted up the stairs to his own room, leaving Anastasia starring bewildered at the spot where Richard had been.
      Richard ran through the gap where his bedroom door had been, he had yet to pry it off the opposite wall and repair it. Grabbing his cell phone off his cluttered desk Richard scrambled to dial the first number that appeared on the recently called list, hoping that it wasn’t too late. Again, it only took the head of Maison de Sang seconds to pick up. His voice, had gained an even more fearful quality too it.
      “Hello Richard.” There was something criminal about the way he said his name, something Richard couldn’t put his finger on but he couldn’t quiet dismiss it.
      “Listen, remember Andrew? Remember how we found him with gashes down his back and his memory gone?” Richard’s words came out in a rush, before he had time to change his mind about what he was doing.
      “Yes, Andrew’s very important to us. It’s not every day a fallen angel is dropped into our lap.” Demonic laughter echoed through the phone line, sending shivers drown Richard spine.
     “Well I believe one just has.” silence filled the line for a second, then two. Richard was about to say something when his boss's voice came back on.
     “Are you saying you think Anastasia is a fallen angel?” his voice demanded.
     “It’s the only thing that makes sense. She took out one of our best assassins, she has two five inch scars running down her back, and she can’t remember a thing. What else could she be? Everything adds up.” Richard attempted to make his voice sound as convincing as he possibly could as he raked his hand through his jet black hair.
    “She could be very useful to us if what you’re saying is correct.” This time the voice on the other end of the phone lost some of its wickedness and was replaced with a hint benevolence, something Richard hadn’t thought possible.
     “I know.” Richards’s voice was soft as he realized what he was condemning her to. He suddenly wished he hadn't made the call. He wished there was another way, sadly it seemed like there was nothing he could do. This was the only way to save her life.
     “Have you asked her if she would be interested in joining us?” again the evilness was replaced with delight, Richard shuttered.
     “Not yet.” Richard responded quietly, knowing that Anastasia wouldn’t have a choice.
     “Well I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to join our little association.” Richard could almost see the boss's smile, a smile generated by the images of enslavement and torture of innocent beings. He must have been thrilled to have another fallen angel enroll in Maison de Sang. No matter if it was the best for them or not, fallen angels made high-quality assassins, very much like vampires. No one quiet understood why, but many believed that though ultimate pacifists in heaven, once betrayed they're fury was unrivalled by any being.
     “I’ll try and convince her to join us.” Richard couldn’t believe what he had just agreed to do, but he had no idea what other choices he had. He couldn’t let Maison de Sang kill her. Never. There was no other way to protect her.
     “Please update me if you find out anything else. How exciting! Another fallen angel! This is truly thrilling!” the boss’s voice with thick with enthusiasm.
     “Yes of course.” Defeat engulf Richard’s heart, there was no way he could back himself out of this now that the boss knew. The line went dead leaving Richard alone starring at the gleaming hard wood floor below his feet. He sank to his knees as the darkness seemed to weigh down on him more and more every second. Waves of overpowering anguish rushed over him, he couldn't breathe. Richard smashed his fist into the bitterly cold floor with a devastating crash, enraged that he hadn’t thought up a better path for Anastasia’s fate. A deep crater remained in his otherwise perfect floor. Anastasia magically appeared next to him laying a slim hand on his shoulder, catching Richard off guard and causing him to jump.
          “Is everything alright?” Anastasia looked down into his eyes, hers brimming with concern. Richard stood up to face her. He was going be forced to tell her sooner or later he might as well get it over with.
          “Yeah . . . . . um . . . . . . . how to put this? Ok good news and bad news. Good news; I know what you are.” Richard smiled sheepishly as her eyes widened with hope.
          “Really? What?!” Anastasia started to bounce up and down on the balls of her feet with excitement.
          “Well . . . . . . . you’re a fallen angel.” Richard watched as she nodded in agreement and understanding, not the response he had been expecting but then again nothing about her had been remotely normal so far.
          “Alright. What’s the bad news?” she questioned this time with a twinge of fear in her voice.
           “Maison de Sang wants you to join us, and when I say “join” I mean you really don’t have a choice. Either you enlist, or they kill you, it’s as simple as that.” Richard hung his head as the sense of failure came crashing down upon him.
         “So I’ll enlist? If the choices are join or death then what reason would I have not to join? Unless I had a death wish but I really don’t. Plus they found out what I am, I should be grateful.” Anastasia smiled hopefully but it faded away as she saw the look of depression on his face. He nodded mournfully.
         “They’re not pleasant creatures. They don’t care about you, or anyone else’s well being, guilty or otherwise.” Richard’s voice was quiet but ominous, he didn’t want to scare her, but he felt Anastasia had to know what she was getting herself into.
        “Shouldn't they leave me alone though now that I'm one of them?" She smiled up at him reassuringly. Richard looked down into her bright blue eyes.
        “I hope your right.” He responded under his breath so she couldn't quite catch it.

Description
Fallen part 5; Awakening

     It was only 6:30 in the morning, but already a thick cloak of solemnity had enveloped the day. The heavy rains of the storm had slowed and subsided, but dark clouds still hovered over the city as a bleak reminder of the previous day’s downpour. Tendrils of misty fog wrapped the bay in a sense of ominous foreboding that affected all who gazed over the hectic harbor below. Even if the sun had already reached the crest of the horizon, it would not have been visible through the murky haze that sheltered the sky.
     Richard was trapped in a fitful sleep. Although the circles under his eyes darkened with each passing night and his body throbbed with exhaustion, it could not find the peaceful place it desired. He thrashed convulsively, legs helplessly twisting in the cotton sheets until they ripped with a sickening tear. Richard was jolted upright, once again roused from the hellish slumber he had come to accept. He slumped forward and lowered his head into his white hands as a flood of dreams from the previous night washed over him. Dreams that left his head wheeling, spinning, trying to comprehend, others in which he wished with all his strength that he was blessed with the luxury of confusion again.
Richard breathed in deeply, more to calm himself and brush away the unnerving images that ran through his head than out of the need for oxygen. He glanced down at his hands and noticed how vigorously they were trembling. This was not how Richard wished to start the day, a day when he needed to be more alert and posses more strength than any another. This was the battle. A battle so desperately vital, a battle he knew he had to win, despite the cards being heavily stacked against him. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t let the Maison de Sang claim yet another innocent life. Not one so breathtakingly beautiful and pure. Not Anastasia’s. Richard made up his mind; he was going to do everything in his power to make certain she came out alive and preferably unhurt from this mess. He almost cracked a smile as he realized the unhurt might be a bit of a stretch, considering how much damage had been inflicted on her in the past 46 hours.
     Heaving a weary sigh, Richard lifted his head from his hands and took stock of his surroundings. The room was dim, only a few wan rays of early morning light had penetrated through a thin crack in the dark, heavy drapes. He glanced towards the end of his wooden four-poster bed and gasped, his jaw falling open in shock. Astonishment crept up beside him and slapped him across the cheek without his knowledge. Anastasia stood at the foot of the bed, still dressed in his sweatpants and t-shirt. Her wide blue eyes glistened with fear as she met his gaze; her entire frame trembled as her long, delicate fingers clutched the footboard for support. Richard pulled himself into a sitting position and quickly raked a hand through his disheveled black hair, brushing the strands from his eyes.
“Good morning… what’s up?” Richard’s voice was thick with drowsiness, for exhaustion still clouded his mind.
“Good morning.” Anastasia responded in whisper, ducking her head so a wave of golden hair obscured her face.
“May I ask why you’re standing at the foot of my bed?” he questioned, looking up at her expectantly. His voice was now smooth, like velvet, even though he wasn’t fully awake.
“I… I… remembered something. About my past,” Her voice was barely audible as she avoided Richard’s curious stare.
“What did you remember?” Richard cringed as his words came out in a rush. At this point, anything about her past would be useful, but he had a suspicion that she hadn’t remembered something good.  He could hear Anastasia’s heart thudding unevenly against her rib cage.
   “I fell.” Tears began to stream down her cheeks, some plummeting and pooling on the wooden floorboards. Richard slumped back into the pillows and sighed. He had truly hoped her memory could offer something important, something that could save her life. He sat, watching the tears roll down her face, his head spinning. He didn’t understand why she was so upset, why the simple recollection of falling caused her such distress. Everyone falls; you just have to pick yourself up and walk it off. But Anastasia was acting like it was an extreme problem. Richard couldn’t comprehend it, he knew she was strong; she had survived an interrogation room full of vampires! Something a normal person couldn’t do. Suddenly he froze, his mind lingering over the key words of his last thought… normal person… What if she wasn’t a normal person? What if she wasn’t a person at all? Richard shook his head, trying to piece together all the infinitesimal bits of information he knew about he, trying to sort through the mixed puzzle pieces of Anastasia’s identity, trying to complete the puzzle. He came back to reality just as Anastasia sunk to the floor, weeping brokenly, arms wrapped tightly around her abdomen as if struggling to hold herself together. Richard kicked, attempting to untangle the cotton sheets that constricted around his long legs, binding him to the bed.
“Damn it,” he cursed under his breath as he stumbled onto the icy floor. He righted himself, regained his balance, and hurried to Anastasia’s side. He kneeled beside her and reached down, gently lifting her face to his. He gazed down into her icy blue eyes, amazed at how often they changed color.
“Don’t cry,” he murmured, tenderly wiping away her tears.
“How can I not cry? They’re going to kill me!” Anastasia gasped out between sobs, her spine arching as her body shook with terror. Richard stroked her back, attempting to console her, but she continued to cry.
“No no no! You are not going to die. That’s not going to happen. I won’t let them hurt you.” Richard reassured in a comforting tone. As Anastasia lay curled on the floor, Richard moved slowly, as not to frighten her. He gently eased his arms around her shaking form and scooped her up. He could feel the warmth radiating from her body as he cradled her against his chest. She was so soft, so breakable, so delicate. He stepped over to the bed and carefully lowered Anastasia onto the edge of the down mattress.  He sat down beside her and pulled her close to him. She leaned her head against her chest, her tears dampening the cotton fabric of his dark t-shirt.
“Everything’s going to be ok.” Richard’s voice was steady, calm, serene, seeking to support her, even though he knew with all his heart that the last statement was untrue. He slowly rubbed her back, closing his eyes, trying with all his strength to understand why she was there, why such a perfect girl had been condemned to such a fate. He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her in an embrace of safety as she came to terms with the odds stacked against her life.
“Everything will be all right.” He repeated, this time as a whisper, half-trying to convince himself. He could still feel Anastasia’s heart racing, stricken with terror. He ran a hand through her hair, a waterfall of golden silk, stroking the ends with tender fingertips.
“Anastasia…” Richard murmured into the thick wilderness of her hair, “Can you tell me anything more about why you fell? Anything at all?” Anastasia’s head lifted, her eyes meeting his, which were brimming with concern. He was trying to understand what was wrong. Anastasia sadly shook her head, blinking back the fresh wave of tears that threatened to overflow.
“Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.” His smooth voice danced in her head as she breathed, calming, reassuring herself, regaining a firm hold on her emotions. Richard waited a moment, clutching her to him until her heartbeat returned to its usual rate. Presently Anastasia pulled back, her face still wet with leftover salty teardrops. Glancing at the nightstand, Richard’s eyes lighted on the glowing red numbers of the clock; 7:06.
“Come on, let’s get you something to eat.” Richard lightly laid a hand on Anastasia’s slim shoulder. Guiding her with his gentle touch, he led her towards the heavy wooden door of the bedroom. He spun the knob and swung the door open, steering her down the marble staircase. The smooth stone cool on the soles of her bare feet, the archway entrance to the modern kitchen loomed ahead, promising a meal, comfort, and a tiny, faint hope for survival. Richard sat her down at the round chestnut table.
Anastasia laid her head on the cold table, clearly disturbed by the vision that had presented itself to her in her sleep. Richard folded her arms over his chest, an anxiety driven sigh escaped from his lungs. He could almost watch the life being pulled from her soul. Gently Richard rested a reassuring hand on her slightly shaking shoulder,
    “Is there anything I can get you?” he asked softly, so as to not shock her in her fragile state. Anastasia shook her head against the table's dark surface. She let her golden hair fall over her face reveling her back. Richard’s breath caught in his throat coming out in a strangled gasp, as he stumbled back. Reaching out to the countertop for support, Richard could not rip his eyes away from Anastasia’s back. Two ghastly wounds ran down her otherwise flawless back. The scar tissue was fairly new, no more than two days old. Richards’s eyes were glued to her. They looked almost identical, both about five inches long. Anastasia raised her head, sensing something was wrong. Turning around she caught sight of Richard stabilizing himself on the marble counter fear and confusion spread through his dark blue eyes, his face paler than she had ever seen.
     “w-w-w-whats wrong?” she shuddered as Richard’s stunned gaze tracked across from her back to finally lock upon her eyes.
     “What happened to your back?” for the first time Anastasia’s voice sounded stronger than his. Anastasia looked at him confused,
     “What are you talking about?” Richard pushed himself away from the counter, “did Alex do that to you?” his eyes filled with a fiery hate.
     “Do what to me? What are you talking about?” Anastasia stood to face Richard confusion written across her face.
     “Here, come with me” Richard grabbed her hand. Nearly dragging her to the bathroom, Richard spun her around so her back faced the mirror and moved her hair so she could also see the scars.
    “Those.” Richard’s voice was little more than a whisper as he watched Anastasia’s face transform from confusion to fear then acceptance. She shrugged,
    “I have no idea.” she replied softly as Richards gaze bore into hers.
    “Did Alex do this to you?” this time his voice demanded an answer, his blue eyes nearly black with a fiery glow.
    Anastasia looked into the mirror, starring at the scars,
    “No, Alex did not.” Her voice was weak next to Richard’s now threatening tone.
    “Then who did?” Richard’s voice was unchanged.
    “I have no idea. All I know is I fell.” This time Anastasia’s voice was powerful as her blue eyes sent a chill through Richard. Backing off he took his hands off her shoulders and folded them across his chest, a worried sigh escaping through his lips.
“You fell?” Richard questioned as his eyes slowly regained their original color. Anastasia nodded her head.
     “And somehow you got these scars, but you don’t know how?” his gaze flickered to the twin gashes on her back, as the words came out as little more than a whisper, he had never seen scars like that before in his entire life, but something seemed familiar, though what it was he couldn’t place. Anastasia watch as Richard’s eyes suddenly widened, as he realized what had happen to her. Sprinting out of the bathroom he bolted up the stairs to his own room, leaving Anastasia starring bewildered at the spot where Richard had been.
      Richard ran through the gap where his bedroom door had been, he had yet to pry it off the opposite wall and repair it. Grabbing his cell phone off his cluttered desk Richard scrambled to dial the first number that appeared on the recently called list, hoping that it wasn’t too late. Again, it only took the head of Maison de Sang seconds to pick up. His voice, had gained an even more fearful quality too it.
      “Hello Richard.” There was something criminal about the way he said his name, something Richard couldn’t put his finger on but he couldn’t quiet dismiss it.
      “Listen, remember Andrew? Remember how we found him with gashes down his back and his memory gone?” Richard’s words came out in a rush, before he had time to change his mind about what he was doing.
      “Yes, Andrew’s very important to us. It’s not every day a fallen angel is dropped into our lap.” Demonic laughter echoed through the phone line, sending shivers drown Richard spine.
     “Well I believe one just has.” silence filled the line for a second, then two. Richard was about to say something when his boss's voice came back on.
     “Are you saying you think Anastasia is a fallen angel?” his voice demanded.
     “It’s the only thing that makes sense. She took out one of our best assassins, she has two five inch scars running down her back, and she can’t remember a thing. What else could she be? Everything adds up.” Richard attempted to make his voice sound as convincing as he possibly could as he raked his hand through his jet black hair.
    “She could be very useful to us if what you’re saying is correct.” This time the voice on the other end of the phone lost some of its wickedness and was replaced with a hint benevolence, something Richard hadn’t thought possible.
     “I know.” Richards’s voice was soft as he realized what he was condemning her to. He suddenly wished he hadn't made the call. He wished there was another way, sadly it seemed like there was nothing he could do. This was the only way to save her life.
     “Have you asked her if she would be interested in joining us?” again the evilness was replaced with delight, Richard shuttered.
     “Not yet.” Richard responded quietly, knowing that Anastasia wouldn’t have a choice.
     “Well I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to join our little association.” Richard could almost see the boss's smile, a smile generated by the images of enslavement and torture of innocent beings. He must have been thrilled to have another fallen angel enroll in Maison de Sang. No matter if it was the best for them or not, fallen angels made high-quality assassins, very much like vampires. No one quiet understood why, but many believed that though ultimate pacifists in heaven, once betrayed they're fury was unrivalled by any being.
     “I’ll try and convince her to join us.” Richard couldn’t believe what he had just agreed to do, but he had no idea what other choices he had. He couldn’t let Maison de Sang kill her. Never. There was no other way to protect her.
     “Please update me if you find out anything else. How exciting! Another fallen angel! This is truly thrilling!” the boss’s voice with thick with enthusiasm.
     “Yes of course.” Defeat engulf Richard’s heart, there was no way he could back himself out of this now that the boss knew. The line went dead leaving Richard alone starring at the gleaming hard wood floor below his feet. He sank to his knees as the darkness seemed to weigh down on him more and more every second. Waves of overpowering anguish rushed over him, he couldn't breathe. Richard smashed his fist into the bitterly cold floor with a devastating crash, enraged that he hadn’t thought up a better path for Anastasia’s fate. A deep crater remained in his otherwise perfect floor. Anastasia magically appeared next to him laying a slim hand on his shoulder, catching Richard off guard and causing him to jump.
          “Is everything alright?” Anastasia looked down into his eyes, hers brimming with concern. Richard stood up to face her. He was going be forced to tell her sooner or later he might as well get it over with.
          “Yeah . . . . . um . . . . . . . how to put this? Ok good news and bad news. Good news; I know what you are.” Richard smiled sheepishly as her eyes widened with hope.
          “Really? What?!” Anastasia started to bounce up and down on the balls of her feet with excitement.
          “Well . . . . . . . you’re a fallen angel.” Richard watched as she nodded in agreement and understanding, not the response he had been expecting but then again nothing about her had been remotely normal so far.
          “Alright. What’s the bad news?” she questioned this time with a twinge of fear in her voice.
           “Maison de Sang wants you to join us, and when I say “join” I mean you really don’t have a choice. Either you enlist, or they kill you, it’s as simple as that.” Richard hung his head as the sense of failure came crashing down upon him.
         “So I’ll enlist? If the choices are join or death then what reason would I have not to join? Unless I had a death wish but I really don’t. Plus they found out what I am, I should be grateful.” Anastasia smiled hopefully but it faded away as she saw the look of depression on his face. He nodded mournfully.
         “They’re not pleasant creatures. They don’t care about you, or anyone else’s well being, guilty or otherwise.” Richard’s voice was quiet but ominous, he didn’t want to scare her, but he felt Anastasia had to know what she was getting herself into.
        “Shouldn't they leave me alone though now that I'm one of them?" She smiled up at him reassuringly. Richard looked down into her bright blue eyes.
        “I hope your right.” He responded under his breath so she couldn't quite catch it.