Fallen Angels

Prologue

April 15, 1778

Blackhurst, England

It was after midnight and her eyes were sparkling in the moonlight. Walking through the corridors and down the hall, her legs carrying her with the unforgotten pattern, left, right, up, left, left, right, until she finally reached the door. It was a big black door which was hard to see with only the light of the moon creeping through the broken blinds, but the golden door knob sparkled. As her hand reached out, the door opened and he sat in the chair bent over his desk with a concentration that couldn't be masked by a smile. She took a few steps closer but was interrupted by his words.

"You know you can't be here," he said with his eyes still fixed on what he was doing, "you must leave this house and find a life someplace else." His words bit her on the neck leaving a pain buried deep in her soul. She continued walking closer and didn't stop this time. Looking over his shoulder, she spotted a painting of a young girl that he was working on, but as she looked closer, she realized it was her. The details in the long cascading black hair and the tint of purple that only showed in the moonlight, and her sky blue eyes that turned green in only anger. Even her soft pink lips were detailed perfectly. Pulling her fingers to her lips as if to make sure they were what she was seeing, she studied the portrait carefully.

"Why are you painting me," her soft voice spoke with a hint of fear.

"Because I have to kill you." She stood in shock, looking over him, then with a burst of adrenaline, she ran, and didn't stop until she was out of the house. Tears fell from her eyes as the cold wind stabbed her cheeks like shards of glass. She continued to run until she could run no further.