The Ghost of a Guardian

Chapter Two: A new face.

The woman woke up, though she was extremely groggy. She realized she was lost and the pain from her beating was excruciating, she began to cry. She buried her hands in her blonde curls with distress. Then she hugged her knees to her chest. As she did so, she felt the blood soak her dress, it was a good thing her dress was a deep maroon color. A small light came around the corner, a lantern. She was too upset to notice the light growing closer. A figure knelt beside her.

"My dear, what is the matter?" It was a man, his voice was soft yet held a hint of mystery. Even though he had a lantern, it still was very dark in the tunnel. She looked up at him, tears clouding her vision. "How did you get down here, where did you come from? No one has been down here in years." There was worry in his voice.

"I'm sorry, I don't know how I got down here, and please monsieur leave me be." She began to cry again. He looked at her figure. She was very petit and she sounded hurt.

"I can take you to where I live, I may be able to help you there." He held his hand out for her to grab, though she winced, thinking he would hit her. "I promise, I won't harm you." He said, still holding his hand out to her. She took his hand hesitantly. "What is your name?" He asked, guiding her through the tunnel. Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Annabeth." Her voice hummed with innocence. He grasped her hand a bit tighter, he felt a warm liquid on her hand. It smelt horrid, her whole body smelt of it. He realized what it was, and it felt as though his heart turned to lead in his chest.

"Annabeth, are you alright?" He looked back to where she was. She nodded and mumbled something he could not hear. "Speak up, there is no need for you to mutter." He told her.

They reached a boat, which he helped her into it and polled his way to the end of it. He then was able to see her better in the light of his lair. She wore a dress that went just below the knee and was a maroon color, it was embellished with black sequins and things that dangled and swayed as she walked.

He let go of her hand and looked at his own gloved hand. The glove was covered with blood from what he could see, it pooled at his palm. He looked at her face, it was bruised and cut. Her perfect porcelain face stained in red patches. He helped her out of the boat, into his home. She took a few steps toward the shore. Due to the trauma she had experienced, her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she collapsed.

He caught her, he picked her up, and carried her gently over to his bed. He watched her for a while, he didn't know why he helped her. As he told her when he found her, no one had been in the tunnel for years. Something didn't sit well with him about that, yet that didn't seem to really bother him. Something about her was different than anyone else he had encountered.

Though she would probably betray him, like they always did. Until then, he would let her stay with him as she got better. Then he'd see where he'd go from there.