In The Shadows

Chapter 2: The Purple-eyed Girl

The skies roared tearing through the heavy downpour of rain over Gabriel's Circle. A cloaked figure stealthily walked around the dimly lit fountain soaked and consciously looking behind her shoulder, on the lookout for anyone following her. She stopped at the opening of an alley, quickly scanning the surroundings.

The Circle seemed quiet contrary to the loud rumble of thunder in the heavens. The cloaked girl heaved a breath and made quick steps into the alleyway. A seemingly regular alley but young angels were resourceful and smarter than older folks ever give them credit for.

With a raise of a cold hand to the wall, it grumbled and shook under her skin, slowly opening down the middle. A big muscular gargoyle with his arms crossed stood guarding the opening. He looked down at the girl's small figure with his eyes, not moving his head. Slender fingers hooked around the hood of her cloak and peeled it back carefully, it started to dematerialize as she did. Locks of brown hair flowed freely as if it hadn't just been soaked a few seconds prior.

The girl slowly looked up at the gargoyle, a small smile playing on her lips. The bouncer nodded and purple eyes turned into little crescents when her smile broke out into a full grin. She quickly walked into the opening as it closed behind her, the air was stuffy and humid as she pushed through a sea of sweaty bodies and damp wings.

A heavy bass blasted in her ears and her eyes blended with the lighting emanating from the neon sign that read "Angiportum" which literally meant "The Alley."

How bleak. She laughed to herself.

A waving arm by the bar caught her attention only to be met by the face-eating grin of her best friend. "Vero, over here." She raised her arm to signal that she saw her.

The purple-eyed girl walked over to her overly excited friend. "You finally made it," the best friend said as soon as she sat down on one of the stools.

"I know, it truly has been suffocating." She answered rolling her eyes.

The bartender handed her the usual drink she had, vodka martini on the rocks.

Was she legally allowed to drink? No.

Was anyone going to stop her? No.

Did she actually care? Definitely not.

"Hey, look isn't that Philippe?" Lauren, the overly excited best friend, said pointing at the direction of the boy in the middle of a crowd circle over to their right.

"Hmm, it is. I thought he was still in Romania or something." The girl agreed not being too bothered by the boy's presence until she felt that he had started walking in their direction.

"Veronique Welkin, at the Alley, how quaint." His voice struggled over the heavy music but surely heard nonetheless.

"Philippe De Laurentiis, I had wished you wouldn't be back for at least a few hundred years but I guess we're both surprised then." She bit back. He laughed, so loud at that too, it almost sounded mocking.

"Oh, you didn't think I'd miss the love of my life's coronation, did you?" He smiled, a smile so revolting. In his mind he was the sexiest angel in the club but to these girls he just looked like a creep.

"Come on, Philippe everybody knows you only want to be with me because you want the throne," she laughed. "You really are your father's son." She looked at her best friend and the latter nodded.

The pair escaped from the Philippe's company and made their way to the dance floor, leaving the poor De Laurentiis boy by the bar.

Without a care in the world, Veronique and Lauren danced like it was the last thing they would ever do. There was no upcoming school year, no responsibilities, no throne, no rebellion, no –

A loud voice interrupted the music, everybody stood still as men in metal armour filed into the club. The party-goers parted right down the middle like the Red Sea did when Moses crossed it with the wave of the General's hand, the line ending at the purple-eyed girl who looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"The King expects you home, your majesty." A grunt escaped the princess's throat as she dragged her feet towards the waiting men. There was no escaping the Royal Guards.

Footsteps echoed around the empty throne room as Veronique was escorted inside by the guards. The King stood at the foot of his throne, a disappointed look on his aging face.

The general bowed presenting the runaway princess to her father, with a wave of the king's hand they stood at ease behind her. "Cael." He said.

"Father." She answered as stern as he had said her name. The king dragged a long sigh from the pit of his lungs.

"What did I say about leaving the castle at this hour? You could have been abducted by rebels. You could have been hurt. You could have been –"

"Killed? I am not a little girl anymore, Dad. I know what I'm doing and I am very much more capable than what you chose to believe."

Another sigh escaped the monarch's lips. "I know, but Cael, you are the princess. This is something that you should always take into consideration."

"I just want to go about my day like any other nineteen-year-old of this realm."

"But you aren't like any other nineteen-year-old. In six years, you will be crowned queen, it's time you realize that responsibility." The king said firmly. "And just as this is true, it's time for you to receive special training."

"Special training?" An eyebrow raised at that.

"You will be transferring your studies to Arc Angel Academy." Her father said calmly.

"What? I only have three more years left and I already started at Glavendale last year that brings it two." She expressed her disbelief.

"Yes, but the Academy is much more capable of teaching you the things you need to know about how to harness your abilities and so much more." The king explained only to be answered by a disappointed roll of his daughter's eyes. "You have no say in this, Cael. My decision is final."

"Like I have a say in anything." With that she left the throne room in a hurry to escape her father.

Another tired sigh came out of the king, "what am I going to do with her, Levi?"

"Have faith, brother. In time she will understand." The general patted his older brother's shoulder to somewhat comfort him.

In the shadows of the town outskirts, a man exuding a black aura stood behind the big tree trunks. Footsteps landed on crisp fallen leaves alerting that someone was coming.

"Have you got any news?" The general said in a whisper. The other man stepped out of hiding.

"I've been doing my part of the bargain. Have you?" His voice was hoarse and high pitched or was it low. To the general it sounded like two people speaking at the same time.

"The plan is in order, we'll be good to go in a few days. I assume there won't be any trouble on your end?"

"We'll be ready," the man said. The general was about to call the conversation off so that they wouldn't be caught by other guards but the man added something, "there is one thing."

"What's that?" The general stood straight, intrigued and thinking about a number of possibilities of what it could be.

"I've caught wind that the boy might be alive." The man whispered.

"Boy? What boy?" The general was confused.

"The boy. The prince. The heir to the throne."