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Fallen part 8; Concrete, Steal, and Rubber

Night; a cloak of black velvet, comforting yet threatening at the same time. The storm had cooled, its elemental fury no longer thrashing against NYC. Two days had passed since Richard was put in charge of the fallen angel. So far things hadn’t completely exploded into tiny fragments, something Richard would do anything to prevent. The old grandfather clock chimed one am, one of the darkest times of the night, made all the more so by the lack of a moon. Richard lay asleep in his bed, thrashing back and forth, a restless sleep he had grown accustom too. Vampires never seem to be able to live peacefully. Their lives were always spent on high alert, an equivalent of a caffeine rush at all times, a side effect of human blood. Those that tried to live peacefully by forsaking the substance, only relapsed later on, and they weren’t pretty, usually spelling death for any in the vicinity. Also Maison de Sang highly disapproved of any vampires that attempted to survive without human blood. By the small chance that they would be able to live without killing, Maison de Sang would send an assassin, ending their miserable life. A disgrace to the name of vampires, Maison de Sang would say.
        Richard sat up in his tangled bed, shaking his head to clear away the dream he had been having. Still groggy he slammed a hand down in the direction of his alarm clock. It took him three attempts before he managed to score the button for the light; an hour and 30 minutes of sleep, a good night’s rest for a vampire. Richard lay back down in his bed, his head collapsing on his pillow as an exhausted sigh escaped from his lips. Closing his eyes, Richard attempted to catch a few more valuable seconds of sleep, though he knew it was hopeless.  Slowly his senses became more alert, the curse of sleep wearing off. He swung his legs over the side and stood up, his eyes growing accustom to the dark. Something seemed wrong; a feeling was twitching at the back of his head.
       Stumbling to the door, he opened it slightly; a ray of light met him instead of the darkness that should have filled the house.  Momentarily confused, Richard stood in his doorway blinking for even dim light burned his eyes. He walked across the hall way to the balcony rail which overlooked the glass and marble living room. No one there and nothing out of place. Richard glided down the grand marble stair case in his near silent gait, arriving in the living room. The fire still blazed in the hart, Richard had been careful to keep all fires going, if they went out, gone would be the heat that they produced, chilling Anastasia to the bone. Something, Richard had learned, was very easily done. She still hadn’t grown accustom to the chilling environment, and he didn’t want her catching pneumonia.
        Richard threw another piece of wood on the fire, watching the sparks rain down like a miniature Armageddon. How could something so beautiful be one of the most destructive forces on Earth? Richard thought for he had always been a pyro at heart. He stood watching the flames lick the new piece of wood and listened to the soft, warm crackling. His hearing zeroed in on a sound that he had never known a fire to make, a low thud. It was the sound of something striking wood, but far too weak to be in the living room with him. Following the sound, Richard made his way over to the stainless steel staircase leading down to the firing range. From the top, the thud could be heard with regularity. Smiling to himself, Richard descended the staircase. The florescent light that hung at the bottom of the staircase was turned on. Richard quickly strode across the room, and opened the padded door, the blinding lights of the range stinging his eyes more than the dim lighting upstairs. Another thud sounded around him as Anastasia sent a throwing knife into the wooden target. Richard blinked rapidly and his vision cleared, he watched her toss 4 more knives before she turned to face him.
        “I’m sorry. Should I not be down here?” her innocent voice matched with an angelic smile.
        “No, it’s OK, just thought you would be sleeping at this hour,” Richard responded with a frown as he walked over to her.
        “I couldn’t sleep.” said Anastasia as she nonchalantly flicked another knife into the target.
        “I see that.” He chuckled under his breath at the oblivious statement.
        “I hope I didn’t wake you.” Anastasia looked up at him, concerned that she had raised him from his sleep.
        “Don’t worry about it, you didn’t wake me. I don’t sleep much.” Richard picked up a throwing knife. He had noticed that Anastasia had learned how to move the target back; it now rested about 15ft from where she stood.
        “Yeah I suppose the whole vampire thing doesn’t help much with your sleep.”
        “Sleep doesn’t come easily now. What about you? You should be sleeping right now, are you feeling OK?” Richard held a hand up to her forehead, making sure she wasn’t unwell with fever.
        “I’ fine,” Anastasia pulled away from Richard touch. “I just can’t sleep.”
        “Alright.” said Richard though he did not sound convinced.   Richard picked up one of the throwing knives and threw it at the target. It landed flexing near the edge of the target, the increase in distance doing nothing to improve his accuracy.
          “How long have you been down here?” Richard questioned as Anastasia flung another knife.
          “I’m not sure, what time is it?”
          “Around 1:15am.”
          “Then about an hour. Here, watch this!” Anastasia exclaimed excitedly as she flipped out four throwing knives. With exceptional speed she threw the knives at the target, creating a perfect circle of knives in the second ring from the center. The actions took her little more than a second. One moment the knives were in her hand, the next wedged into the wooden target. Richard stood speechless, eyes glued to the target as Anastasia’s sweet laughter filled the air.
          “Fun, right?” she beamed up at him, proud of her newly found talent. Richard nodded.
          “Wow . . . that’s . . . wow.” again Anastasia’s laughter sounded softly around him. She flung four more, with the same swiftness and dexterity as before, and created a smaller circle of knives inside of the ones that she had previously thrown.
          “That’s remarkable. I've never seen knifemanship like that.” Richard smiled down at her, dumbfounded at her accomplishment. Anastasia jumped up and down, animated by her ability. He turned his attention back to the knife in his hand, flipping it back and forth, admiring the craftsmanship. The blade, a perfect mirror, had an edge literally able to split a hair. Meanwhile Anastasia silently moved to the target, retrieving the knives. Richard flicked the knife into the air, catching it by the blade and with a backhanded flick sent it at the target, unaware that Anastasia was standing in its flight path until the knife had already left his hand. Richard's smile changed to a look of absolute horror as he realized his mistake.
          “ANASTASIA, GET DOWN!!” his voice boomed around her, with a ferocity that stunned her. Anastasia remained stationary before the target, the knife still flying though the air, on a straight path to the back of her neck.
          “ANASTASIA!!!” again his voice pounded into her, fear raging wild through the desperate words, “GET DOWN!!!!” then it was all over, Richard shut his eyes, unable to bear the sight of the knife striking her. Seconds ticked by with the length of hours, the piercing scream of impact didn’t come. He opened his eyes reluctantly, expecting to see Anastasia on the ground in with the knife in her. But there was good reason of the lack of a shriek, for blood had yet to be spilt. Instead Richard’s mouth dropped open. In Anastasia’s hand was the hilt of the fateful knife. In the last spilt millisecond, she had whirled around grasping the knife a mere centimeter from her flesh. It was in impossible, not even a vampire had that kind of speed. The knife now rested harmlessly in her hand. Richard ran to her side.
          “Anastasia, you’re ok?” his voice came out as a frail whisper, as if dreading that it was some cruel figment of his imagination.
          “Yes I’m fine,” she said airily smiling up at him as she handed Richard back the knife hilt first. “Though, next time, a little more warning would be much appreciated.”
          “I’m so extremely sorry,” he said, his voice still feeble.
          “It’s alright, I’m fine.” She smiled reassuringly up at him, but his eyes were still full of concern. “I swear I’m okay.” Anastasia held up her palms, showing him she was in fact, undamaged. Richard brought his arms up, wrapping them around her fragile figure. Her warmth brought final confirmation that she was indeed unharmed.
          “I was terrified. I thought you were dead.” He whispered quietly his voice trembling, almost ashamed to admit his fear. Anastasia gently hugged him back.
          “It’s okay, I’m fine, don’t worry.” Her voice was soft “There’s no need to apologize.”
          “I could have killed you.” Richard fought to keep his voice from shaking at the thought of Anastasia lifeless by his hand. Richard strode over to the touch screen, pushing an array of buttons Anastasia watched as the targets sunk into the floor to be replaced by padded mats, and a panel slid open in the wall beside the arsenal. Still smiling to himself, Richard walked over to it and started wrapping his wrists with a role of black fabric. Anastasia silently strode to his side, confused.
         "What is that?" she poked a roll of soft cloth questioningly, her sudden appearance startling Richard making him jump.
         "How did you do that?" he exclaimed stunned.
         "Do what?" she looked up at him even more confused.
         "I could have sworn you were right there," Richard pointed to where Anastasia had been standing before, “How did you get from there to here?"
         "I walked?" her eyebrows were cocked, one raised and the other lowered.
         "OK that was a stupid question."
         "Just a tiny bit."
         "Never mind," Richard picked up the other roll of fabric and started wrapping his right wrist.
         "You never answered my question. What are you doing?" She poked his wrist that had already been wrapped.
         "When you're fighting hand to hand, you need to wrap your hands so you don’t break them when you punch. A broken hand is hardly useful in a fight, and it’s not fun, trust me on this, I have experience breaking bones. I'll wrap yours when I'm done.
        "Experience?"
        Richard laughed to himself, "Well when I was human I loved to snowboard. I would fall on my hands hard, and broke everything from fingers to wrist to arms. I was a little accident prone when I was human," he smiled at her a bit embarrassed, "I use to carry my medical cards in my wallet just in case I got hurt badly. Proved rather a good idea I'm sorry to admit" Anastasia face was turning red with the effort of suppressing laugher.
        "That's so cute," she finally burst out capitulating.
        "You seriously think that it was 'cute' that I was accident prone?" Richard looked down at Anastasia unbelievingly. She nodded, eyes sparkling a light blue with merriment.
        "You're very strange, you know that?"
        "Yes I know that." Anastasia smiled up at him, taking his insult as a compliment. Richard rolled his eyes at her response, still smiling.
        "Ok let's see those hands." She held them out fists balled.
        "Ok open your hands, can’t wrap them like that."
        He wound the fabric tightly around her hand, starting halfway down her arm and working his way up. He concentrated on the knuckles, building up multiple layers. Anastasia felt like all circulate ion was leaving her hand.
        "Does it have to be so tight?" she asked as he did the other one.
        "Only if you want it to work right." he said finishing.
        "Are you ready to fight yet?" she inquired blissfully, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet throwing air punches.
        "How do you have so much energy? It's almost 2 in the morning." Richard asked as he walked alongside the still jousting Anastasia into the middle of the room.
        "Stop asking so many questions." She skipped about two yards away from him then spun around.
        "Hey you started it." Richard replied.
        "Not the point." Anastasia squared off with him, raising her fists in front of her collar bone. Her eyes sparked with energy from the new flow of adrenaline, changing from a sky blue to a dark bluish green. Richard assumed his own pose. Left foot leading by about 2ft, and both hands relaxed, his left held straight across his body just below his chin so it formed a shield, and his right held lower at chest perpendicular to his left, ready to punch.
        "On your mark," Richard responded, watching for changes in stance that would provide hints as to her first move.
        Anastasia nodded and dashed up to him, her speed closely matched with the velocity only achieved by a vampire. Richard easily deflected the first mad dash, tapping her on the back of the head as she went. Turning around she lunged back at him both fists extended forward. Being caught off guard, Richard barely had time to block Anastasia's punch, aimed at his windpipe. Richard had learned the day before Anastasia fought viciously, and this only reinstated that belief.
        "Good move, you're going to need a lot more finesse if you want to win in a real fight. You're telegraphing your blows." He said parrying a few well aimed punches.
        "I'm hardly trying yet. I don’t want to hurt you."
        "Give it your best shot, try this." He made a move with his left shoulder, and Anastasia raised her arms to block the punch, but it didn’t come, instead she felt a push of air against her face. His right fist was a mere centimeter from her face, she blinked and her eyelash brushed his skin. "See make it look like you're doing something you're not."
        "Okay I got it."
She assumed the standard fight position again and they began to spar. She drew back her right fist for a punch, and instead delivered a ferocious kick to Richard’s knee. He yelled out in pain, and starting hopping up and down.
       "What the hell was that!? That hurt."
       "I’m sorry, but can't you kick in fights."
       "Okay if you want to fight like that."
       The rest of the fight was a blur of limbs as both struggled to hold off the other. Though an innocent smile was painted on her face, Anastasia's eyes told a different story, flickering with  slyness when she attacked her victim, throwing punches deigned to stun or even kill her appoint. Richard blocked another set of punches then a round-house kick as he threw back a right hook. Anastasia dodged Richard's fist with a back-hand-spring, then came running at him again. Her angelic laughter sounded through the firing range. Richard smiled down at her as he caught her fist that was meant to strike him in the face. This time his laughter was heard as Anastasia's face showed her disappointment that he had blocked her punch. He then lifted her off the ground and gave her a light toss. She landed in a dive roll, and braced her hands against the mat. She coiled her body, and with all her might pushed off, stiffening her body like a boarded, her feet a deadly battering ram, missing Richards face as he ducked out of the way by barely an inch. Landing right way up, she smiled angelically.
Richard stood blinking, "I guess we're even in the nearly killing each other department" he said after some time. "That kick was incredible."
        "Why thank you." she said appreciatively.

*          *           *           *

The fight raged on until late hours of the early morning. Though Anastasia's fighting style had vastly improved. She was beginning to show signs of weariness. Her form had started to slack, providing Richard easy windows to strike. By the time the clock stuck 5AM, Richard was unwrapped her wrists, the tape had done its job, providing protection throughout the ferocious fight. Anastasia’s eyes were glazed, half open as she battled exhaustion, struggling to hold up her arm for Richard to unwrap it.
      “Someone’s a little tired.” A hint of mockery was detectable in his voice. Anastasia shook her head, even as her eyelids closed and her head lolled
        “No, I’m totally awake,” she said, her voice heavy with exhaustion.
        “Oh really?” Anastasia nodded her head as she raised her other hand for Richard to unwrap. Richard was enjoying her sudden weakness, seeing as she had beat him at knife throwing and had come closer than he ever thought possible to decapitating him in hand-to-hand combat.
        “Its 5:23 in the morning, you’ve been up all night fighting, you have to be exhausted.” Richard countered.
       “Okay, maybe a little.” Anastasia closed her eyes finally agreeing with him. Richard patted her head gently, making sure not to tap her too hard or else he might break her neck.
        “It’s OK, you need sleep. Give me a couple more seconds and then you can go up to bed. Sound good?” He smiled to himself, glad that his plan to tire her out had succeeded. She nodded once again, too worn out to speak. Richard laughed quietly as he finished unwrapping her wrists.
        “Come on.” He led her out of the firing range and up the swirling steel stair case. The soft light of morning had just started to peek through the tall pines, more firm reminder of the hours passed in the basement. Anastasia slumped through the living room and up the marble stair case to her room where she crawled into bed. Sleep hitting her like a brick wall, her eyes shut the second her head that made contacted with the white pillow. Richard smiled to himself as he pulled the cloud like sheets up to her shoulders.
        “Sleep well angel” his voice nothing more of a whisper as he quietly glided across the shining floor and closed the wooden door to her room.
        Richard’s footsteps made a soft echo through the now silent house. He made his way to the living room. Again he paused something still felt out of place, but nothing appeared out of place. Dismissing the feeling as paranoia, Richard walked over to the fire. Adding more wood he lay down on the couch adjacent, and watched the flames dance over the fresh wood. It’s power ferocious and indiscriminate, a truly fearful combination; he couldn’t help but compare Maison de Sang to the blaze that lay in front of him. The soft light of early morning was growing stronger through the huge bay windows, but Richard didn’t care. He was dog tired. Richard’s eyes started to close, sleep eluding him as he listened to the light popping of the fire.
Something was out of place, was racing through his brain, and that was joined by the feeling of being watched. Richard shot up and searched around him but nothing could be seen. Lying down, he closed his eyes again, this time sliding into a shallow sleep. A low whine sounded in Richard’s head, a warning that other vampires were in vicinity. The sharp ring continued to gain in intensity, louder and louder as the intruder got closer. Richard’s eyes flung open, he jumped off of the couch and whirled to the direction of the stairwell, about to sprint up to Anastasia’s room to make sure she was unharmed. A voice stopped him in his tracks.
“She’s alright Richard. I’m not here for her.” A dark figure emerged from the shadows still lingering in the corners. The vampire stepped into the morning light, revealing his face to Richard.
“Why did Maison de Sang send you?” Richard spat.
“Why do you think Maison de Sang sent me? Can’t I just drop in to see a good friend?” Connor’s tone was relaxed.
“Don’t give me that BS; I know that they sent you.” Richard glared at Connor, furious. His face was contorted in a sour expression, as if the words left a bitter taste on his tongue
“Fine, I surrender, they did send me.” Connor was pushing Richard and he knew it.
“Anastasia is safe. I’m doing exactly what they told me. I’m doing nothing wrong. Why did they send you?” Richard’s hands were curled into tight fists.
“Yes you’re doing a perfect job. We know she’s safe, that’s not why I’m here.”
“Stop stalling and answer the damn question.” Richard’s voice became a deep growl. Connor's jaw was clenched.
“Your mission is to keep her safe and be her guardian, not to be her little friend. You’re getting too attached to her, and it’s happily my job to remind you of that.” Richard stalked up so he was face to face with Connor, establishing his height advantage, and covering his surprise. He had not expected Maison de Sang to know of their growing friendship.
“You were put in charge of her. They can take her away just as easy. Maison de Sang wants her to join them, don’t mess up your spot at the top just because you don’t want her to join. Don’t be stupid and get attached to her, you know the servile rate of operatives.” Connor watched as Richard’s fiery glare dropped to the floor, his comment hitting home.
“I don’t want her to become an assassin. She’s not skilled enough to be one.” Richard struggled to keep his voice level so Connor wouldn’t pick up on his lie.
“You don’t have a say in wither she is or not.” Connor replied patronizingly with a smirk, “I’m warning you now, getting attached to her would be bad for both you and Anastasia.” It was all Richard could do to keep himself from laying him out. “Maison de Sang is coming for her. I know I don’t have to tell you that.”
“What, you came here just to tell me that? Well thanks but no thanks.”
“I’m here to remind you that your job is to keep her safe and nothing else.” Connor had started to tense up, becoming more and more impatient with Richard.
“Why can’t I like her? There are no rules that say I can’t.” He was getting ready for the fight.
“Because this is only temporary. Maison de Sang will make up their mind on what to do with her. The probability of her staying here in your care is very slim. You can like her, hell you can even love her, I don’t give a shit! And I know they don’t either. But when the day comes, when they come for her, when you’re watching their car disappear behind your wooden gate with her inside, you’ll be wishing you hadn’t cared so much about her, you’ll be wishing you didn’t have a heart.” Connor had now started to raise his voice. "Now personally, I'd love to watch you go through that but Maison de Sang doesn't see it that way."
“Just because they killed the girl you liked doesn’t mean they’ll kill mine.” Richard growled. This time Connor lost it.
“Maison de Sang doesn’t care if you love her; they don’t give a fuck about your feelings or what you want."
“You think I don’t know that already?”
“Just make sure Anastasia is willing to join Maison de Sang.”
“And what if I don’t?” Richard challenged Connor, though it felt like he was challenging the whole company.
“It doesn’t matter; you know it’s either join or death, I'd prefer the latter. If you run, they will chase you, and I will lead the pack; if you hide they will find you. They have in the past and I have no doubt they will now.” Connor’s voice was steady, his eyes were black with anger, and Richard knew he spoke the truth. You didn’t run from Maison de Sang; no matter who, or what you were, they would find you.
“It had to be you.  Maison de Sang has a thousand different operatives, but they sent you.” Richard’s words were almost lost in his snarl.
        “You know I’m the best in the biz, why would they trust anyone less with the protection of an angel?” his face contorted with fury.
        “That’s a lie. You know I’m the best now that Alex is gone. That’s why she was put in my care and not yours.” He was ready for any attack Connor might try and throw it back tenfold.  Connor’s only reply was a deep growl, a warning to back off, which Richard happily ignored.
        “Get the hell out of my house.” Richard’s voice was close to a roar. Connor stood his ground, challenging Richard to enforce his point. Seconds ticked by with no movement from either party. Finally Connor spun around, storming to the front door.
        “You can’t deny the truth. Wither you like it or not, she belongs to Maison de Sang now.” Connor snarled as he slammed the door behind him. When Richard heard the roar of his Mercedes and the screech of protesting rubber as it raced down the driveway, he knew Connor was gone. Richard still stood tensed for a fight, his fists curled into tight balls and his eyes spitting fire. He began to shake as the adrenaline that had coursed through his body returned unspent. He knew Connor spoke the truth, Maison de Sang was coming for Anastasia and there was no denying that.
*              *              *              *
    A new day broke dawn, bringing with it new hopes, as well as new fears. The morning light poured into Anastasia’s room as Richard flung open the blackout curtains waking Anastasia from her sleep, leaving her disoriented and confused.
        “What the...?” she rubbed her eyes sleepily. Richard’s quiet laugh sounded as Anastasia felt him sit down at the end of the bed.
        “I told you, you were tired.” Richard smiled at her, his voice quiet. Anastasia looked up at him confused by his comment. “You’ve slept for nearly 24 hours.” Richard laughed again as Anastasia’s expression turned to disbelief. She closed her eyes and pulled the cloud like sheets over her head.
        “Come on, it’s time to get up,” Richard pulled the sheets from her, exposing her to the morning light, “Don’t make me throw you in the pool, and I'm warning you now, I don’t keep it heated.” He teased.
       “Alright, alright! I’m up!” Anastasia sat bolt upright, at the idea of a dunking in ice cold water.
        “Thought that might work.” His smile revealed his lethal razor-sharp fangs, reminding Anastasia what he really was, though she no longer feared him for it. Anastasia rolled to the side of the bed and placed her feet on the floor.
"Wait you have a pool here?" she asked.
  “Yes why?” Richard questioned. Anastasia shrugged as she strode into the bathroom, grabbed her hair brush, and walked back into her room brushing her golden blonde hair.
        “I was beginning to think this house didn't have an outside.” She smiled pensively.
        "You really have had a limited experience of earth, what with being an Angel and all, you've really seen nothing of It." he agreed flinging a pillow at her gently.
        “Yes I know.” said Anastasia as smoothly stepped to the side as the fluffy pillow flew by her. The wind from the passing pillow blew her hair undoing her work with the brush.
        “What time is it?” she inquired as she strolled to the windows, gazing out at the pine trees and the lengthily driveway.
        “Around 9am.” Richard joined her; again his feet had made no sound on the glistening wood floors. Anastasia was getting use to his ability to appear at her side like magic, she found it almost reassuring. A minute ticked by as they both watched the light breeze play with the pine trees casting ever changing shadows on the driveway. They seemed to reach up to the house, trying to grab hold with their constantly moving fingers, though the house always seemed just out of their grasp. Then as the sun would rise higher in the sky, would beat down the malevolence shadows, until the sun itself sunk behind the mansion, allowing the castle’s shadow to overpower the trees. Night would come and bring with it shadows for all until the sun would rise; again the cycle would repeat itself.

“Can we go outside?” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading.
        “You have been stuck in this house for a while.” He agreed as his eyes met hers, his mind working out the probability of a vampire attack, and whether Maison de Sang would be happy with his decision. He doubted they would be. “Sure. Would you like to see more of the city? Seeing as you’ve never been to NYC before.”
        “That’s sounds perfect!” Anastasia’s eyes lit up, excitement taking over her body. Richard laughed at her, once again a smiled was visible on his face.
        “You want to take the motorcycle then?” this time his f ace was split with a smile from. Anastasia remembered the bike, with its headlights glaring at her like possessed eyes and the sleek and ferocious frame seeming everything but welcoming. She could tell Richard was thrilled to show it to her, she couldn’t say no, nor did she want to.
        “Alright.”
Richard grabbed her hand, she lurched slightly at his warm touch, she had been expecting freezing like the rest of his world, as he dragged her from the room and down to the garage, his strength nearly tearing her arm from her body. Anastasia's feet barely skimmed against the cold marble stairs as they flew down. Richard’s speed was incredible. Anastasia was pulled down the hall through the door to the expansive garage, nearly blowing the door from its hinges. Anastasia realized that it could possibly be dangerous for him to get excited; he seemed to lose all consciousness of his own terrible strength. Richard let go of her hand, leaving red marks from the pressure. A matte black helmet hung from a hook next to the bike, the visor tinted a shadow grey to protect the owner from glare, though Anastasia felt its main purpose was to add to the malevolence of the bike. Richard plucked the helmet from the rack and strode over to Anastasia, grinning evilly.
“Here you go.” He slammed the helmet into her outstretched hands.
“Where’s yours?”
“I don’t need one, but Maison de Sang will flip if you don’t wear one.” Richard rolled his eyes at the thought of Maison de Sang’s extreme paranoia. Anastasia slipped on the helmet and let Richard tighten it, hitting her on the top of the head when he was done, a measure to make sure it fit alright and wouldn’t fly off if she, god forbid, was thrown from the bike. Richard sat down on the bike holding his hand out.
"Ducati,” He said loudly.
Anastasia looked at him oddly, then jumped in surprise as the keys dropped into his outstretched hand from a voice activated compartment.
"How the..."
"Never forget my keys anymore," he said with a smile.
With a push of a button the motorcycle roared to life. Anastasia couldn’t help but feel a heap of fear in her chest, the image of Richard and his bike would send anyone’s heart rate up. Together they made a perfect pair, both intimidating and sinister, the image of darkness. The bike could not have suited him more. The headlights sparked fiercely. If Anastasia thought it looked alive before, it was nothing compared to the feeling that poured through her now. All the time, Richard smiled, extremely proud of his motorcycle. Anastasia wondered if Richard knew what he looked like when he sat upon it; how much they seemed the same; how much their image could stun people with fear.
“You ready?” Richard’s voice was hardly audible over the roaring engine.
Anastasia nodded, trying to ignore the growing feeling of dread that had crept into her mind the second the motorcycle’s headlights had drilled into her. The feeling had lain dormant in her mind until now. Richard was too preoccupied to notice her troubles; slowly Anastasia pushed herself forward, until she was standing next to the snarling bike. She swung her leg over the seat behind Richard, and wrapped her arms around his torso. The motorcycle seemed to roar, sensing her fear, deeming her unworthy to join Richard on his ride of New York. As soon as Richard felt her arms tighten around his waist, he twisted the throttle, and the bike jolted forward, nearly pulling her from the bike.
"You're going to have to hold on tighter."
He felt her readjust her grip, and hold on much tighter than before. He accelerated again, zooming out of the garage and down the driveway. Anastasia watched as the massive wooden gates swung open heavily. The last time she had seen those towers of wood, they had represented imprisonment, now freedom beckoned between their lips. Then they were through, speeding through the expensive neighborhood as the sun gently broke through the soft clouds and the wind whistled passed them. Sprawling manicured lawns and massive house with posh sport cars blurred passed in the blink of an eye. The bike roared down one of the many deserted streets, its sound shattering the peaceful silence. Richard slowed to a stop as they waited for the white gate to open, releasing them out into the world. Richard accelerated out of the immaculate haven and into the world beyond. The gate closed behind them, as if wishing it wouldn’t have to let Richard and his bike back in, glad they were no longer disturbing its peace. If Anastasia had thought their speed was impressive before, she was wrong. The wind whipped passed them with at least twice as much power as before, pulling at her fingers that were still wrapped tightly around Richard’s waist. They were her only seatbelt and, besides the helmet, her only protection. Richard weaved swiftly between the cars, the bike's unique design easily maintaining balance even at the outrageous speed they were traveling out. Richard felt Anastasia’s arms tighten around him as the bike knifed between two semi's with inches to spare and onto the freeway onramp. He glanced back at her, gazing through a flailing wall of hair. Her eyes were shut tight, unwilling to watch as he swerved in and out of traffic. She had never traveled this fast in her life. Even her free fall plummet to earth had not reached this insane speed. Richard laughed quietly and Anastasia looked up at him, she hadn’t realized they were so close until their eyes met. Amazed that she could hear his laugh with the white noise of the air flying past them, Anastasia’s eyes widened. They soon filled with fear as she realized that he was no longer looking at the road. Richard seemed to read her mind,
         “It’s okay. I got it, calm down.” His voice somehow made its way through the wind and helmet, as if they were standing alone in his silent house once again.
         He moved his attention back to the traffic in front of him and slowed as they left the freeway and entered the city. He felt Anastasia relax, starting to admire the city that loomed above them. High rise buildings cast shadows over the ground on which they rode. The sun reached nothing in the steel forest. A suspicious feeling clung to everyone, ever corner, and every building. But through the hostile emotion that coated the people that strode the streets to the point where they no longer noticed, there was beauty. Man made marvels seemed to be everywhere you looked. Bridges, skyscrapers, and even apartment buildings stole the breath of any newcomers to the concert jungle. Anastasia gazed up at the immense buildings, her head tilted towards the sky. Richard felt the front wheel of the bike lift from the ground. He glanced back and laughed to himself as he leaned forward slightly. As they sped over the bridge leading out of the city, Anastasia looked over her shoulder to catch one last glimpse at the world famous New York City skyline confused. She slid the visor up so Richard could have a better chance of hearing her question.
         “Where are we going?” The words reaching his ear, though the wind whistled passed them and the engine roared.
         “My favorite place isn’t in New York City.” The bike snarled beneath them as Richard persuaded it to go even faster through the traffic. Anastasia tightened her grip as the air presser threatened to rip her from Richard.
          As the concert buildings faded away they were replaced with bright green foliage. The sun beamed down on the tree leaves filtering through with a neon green glow. Richard’s driving seemed to relax, the traffic around them had faded with the city, and he could now admire the trees that seemed to enfold around them. The trees towered above them but let off an entirely different feeling than the skyscrapers. The feeling of tranquility was abundant as the sun hung over head, illuminating the road before them in a natural light. Soft shadows played upon the deserted road as the bike blazed down the black asphalt. Ferns lined the edge of the road and seemed to wave at them as they passed. Everything was a blur of green and yellow save for the spots of brow on the tree trunks that moss had not claimed and the black road that waved between the trees in a meandering unhurried way. Richard slowed the bike to 'slow' 60mph as Anastasia gazed out into the rich east coast forest. They pulled into a dusty turnout and together stepped off of the bike, Anastasia careful not to touch her leg against the scalding muffler. Richard gently unlatched her helmet and pulled it off. Anastasia blinked rapidly as the tinted visor was taken away, exposing her ocean blue eyes to the bright green light the filtered through the leaves around them. She looked around admiring the landscape and unbelieving that a place like that survive within an hour out of NYC.  Richard strode over to an unkempt passageway, its course unclaimed for many months; the raining brought nourishment to the plants and even more growth that seemed to strangle the underprivileged trail.
“You coming?” Richard questioned as he snapped a few braches that were overcrowding the way.

Description
Fallen part 8; Concrete, Steal, and Rubber

Night; a cloak of black velvet, comforting yet threatening at the same time. The storm had cooled, its elemental fury no longer thrashing against NYC. Two days had passed since Richard was put in charge of the fallen angel. So far things hadn’t completely exploded into tiny fragments, something Richard would do anything to prevent. The old grandfather clock chimed one am, one of the darkest times of the night, made all the more so by the lack of a moon. Richard lay asleep in his bed, thrashing back and forth, a restless sleep he had grown accustom too. Vampires never seem to be able to live peacefully. Their lives were always spent on high alert, an equivalent of a caffeine rush at all times, a side effect of human blood. Those that tried to live peacefully by forsaking the substance, only relapsed later on, and they weren’t pretty, usually spelling death for any in the vicinity. Also Maison de Sang highly disapproved of any vampires that attempted to survive without human blood. By the small chance that they would be able to live without killing, Maison de Sang would send an assassin, ending their miserable life. A disgrace to the name of vampires, Maison de Sang would say.
        Richard sat up in his tangled bed, shaking his head to clear away the dream he had been having. Still groggy he slammed a hand down in the direction of his alarm clock. It took him three attempts before he managed to score the button for the light; an hour and 30 minutes of sleep, a good night’s rest for a vampire. Richard lay back down in his bed, his head collapsing on his pillow as an exhausted sigh escaped from his lips. Closing his eyes, Richard attempted to catch a few more valuable seconds of sleep, though he knew it was hopeless.  Slowly his senses became more alert, the curse of sleep wearing off. He swung his legs over the side and stood up, his eyes growing accustom to the dark. Something seemed wrong; a feeling was twitching at the back of his head.
       Stumbling to the door, he opened it slightly; a ray of light met him instead of the darkness that should have filled the house.  Momentarily confused, Richard stood in his doorway blinking for even dim light burned his eyes. He walked across the hall way to the balcony rail which overlooked the glass and marble living room. No one there and nothing out of place. Richard glided down the grand marble stair case in his near silent gait, arriving in the living room. The fire still blazed in the hart, Richard had been careful to keep all fires going, if they went out, gone would be the heat that they produced, chilling Anastasia to the bone. Something, Richard had learned, was very easily done. She still hadn’t grown accustom to the chilling environment, and he didn’t want her catching pneumonia.
        Richard threw another piece of wood on the fire, watching the sparks rain down like a miniature Armageddon. How could something so beautiful be one of the most destructive forces on Earth? Richard thought for he had always been a pyro at heart. He stood watching the flames lick the new piece of wood and listened to the soft, warm crackling. His hearing zeroed in on a sound that he had never known a fire to make, a low thud. It was the sound of something striking wood, but far too weak to be in the living room with him. Following the sound, Richard made his way over to the stainless steel staircase leading down to the firing range. From the top, the thud could be heard with regularity. Smiling to himself, Richard descended the staircase. The florescent light that hung at the bottom of the staircase was turned on. Richard quickly strode across the room, and opened the padded door, the blinding lights of the range stinging his eyes more than the dim lighting upstairs. Another thud sounded around him as Anastasia sent a throwing knife into the wooden target. Richard blinked rapidly and his vision cleared, he watched her toss 4 more knives before she turned to face him.
        “I’m sorry. Should I not be down here?” her innocent voice matched with an angelic smile.
        “No, it’s OK, just thought you would be sleeping at this hour,” Richard responded with a frown as he walked over to her.
        “I couldn’t sleep.” said Anastasia as she nonchalantly flicked another knife into the target.
        “I see that.” He chuckled under his breath at the oblivious statement.
        “I hope I didn’t wake you.” Anastasia looked up at him, concerned that she had raised him from his sleep.
        “Don’t worry about it, you didn’t wake me. I don’t sleep much.” Richard picked up a throwing knife. He had noticed that Anastasia had learned how to move the target back; it now rested about 15ft from where she stood.
        “Yeah I suppose the whole vampire thing doesn’t help much with your sleep.”
        “Sleep doesn’t come easily now. What about you? You should be sleeping right now, are you feeling OK?” Richard held a hand up to her forehead, making sure she wasn’t unwell with fever.
        “I’ fine,” Anastasia pulled away from Richard touch. “I just can’t sleep.”
        “Alright.” said Richard though he did not sound convinced.   Richard picked up one of the throwing knives and threw it at the target. It landed flexing near the edge of the target, the increase in distance doing nothing to improve his accuracy.
          “How long have you been down here?” Richard questioned as Anastasia flung another knife.
          “I’m not sure, what time is it?”
          “Around 1:15am.”
          “Then about an hour. Here, watch this!” Anastasia exclaimed excitedly as she flipped out four throwing knives. With exceptional speed she threw the knives at the target, creating a perfect circle of knives in the second ring from the center. The actions took her little more than a second. One moment the knives were in her hand, the next wedged into the wooden target. Richard stood speechless, eyes glued to the target as Anastasia’s sweet laughter filled the air.
          “Fun, right?” she beamed up at him, proud of her newly found talent. Richard nodded.
          “Wow . . . that’s . . . wow.” again Anastasia’s laughter sounded softly around him. She flung four more, with the same swiftness and dexterity as before, and created a smaller circle of knives inside of the ones that she had previously thrown.
          “That’s remarkable. I've never seen knifemanship like that.” Richard smiled down at her, dumbfounded at her accomplishment. Anastasia jumped up and down, animated by her ability. He turned his attention back to the knife in his hand, flipping it back and forth, admiring the craftsmanship. The blade, a perfect mirror, had an edge literally able to split a hair. Meanwhile Anastasia silently moved to the target, retrieving the knives. Richard flicked the knife into the air, catching it by the blade and with a backhanded flick sent it at the target, unaware that Anastasia was standing in its flight path until the knife had already left his hand. Richard's smile changed to a look of absolute horror as he realized his mistake.
          “ANASTASIA, GET DOWN!!” his voice boomed around her, with a ferocity that stunned her. Anastasia remained stationary before the target, the knife still flying though the air, on a straight path to the back of her neck.
          “ANASTASIA!!!” again his voice pounded into her, fear raging wild through the desperate words, “GET DOWN!!!!” then it was all over, Richard shut his eyes, unable to bear the sight of the knife striking her. Seconds ticked by with the length of hours, the piercing scream of impact didn’t come. He opened his eyes reluctantly, expecting to see Anastasia on the ground in with the knife in her. But there was good reason of the lack of a shriek, for blood had yet to be spilt. Instead Richard’s mouth dropped open. In Anastasia’s hand was the hilt of the fateful knife. In the last spilt millisecond, she had whirled around grasping the knife a mere centimeter from her flesh. It was in impossible, not even a vampire had that kind of speed. The knife now rested harmlessly in her hand. Richard ran to her side.
          “Anastasia, you’re ok?” his voice came out as a frail whisper, as if dreading that it was some cruel figment of his imagination.
          “Yes I’m fine,” she said airily smiling up at him as she handed Richard back the knife hilt first. “Though, next time, a little more warning would be much appreciated.”
          “I’m so extremely sorry,” he said, his voice still feeble.
          “It’s alright, I’m fine.” She smiled reassuringly up at him, but his eyes were still full of concern. “I swear I’m okay.” Anastasia held up her palms, showing him she was in fact, undamaged. Richard brought his arms up, wrapping them around her fragile figure. Her warmth brought final confirmation that she was indeed unharmed.
          “I was terrified. I thought you were dead.” He whispered quietly his voice trembling, almost ashamed to admit his fear. Anastasia gently hugged him back.
          “It’s okay, I’m fine, don’t worry.” Her voice was soft “There’s no need to apologize.”
          “I could have killed you.” Richard fought to keep his voice from shaking at the thought of Anastasia lifeless by his hand. Richard strode over to the touch screen, pushing an array of buttons Anastasia watched as the targets sunk into the floor to be replaced by padded mats, and a panel slid open in the wall beside the arsenal. Still smiling to himself, Richard walked over to it and started wrapping his wrists with a role of black fabric. Anastasia silently strode to his side, confused.
         "What is that?" she poked a roll of soft cloth questioningly, her sudden appearance startling Richard making him jump.
         "How did you do that?" he exclaimed stunned.
         "Do what?" she looked up at him even more confused.
         "I could have sworn you were right there," Richard pointed to where Anastasia had been standing before, “How did you get from there to here?"
         "I walked?" her eyebrows were cocked, one raised and the other lowered.
         "OK that was a stupid question."
         "Just a tiny bit."
         "Never mind," Richard picked up the other roll of fabric and started wrapping his right wrist.
         "You never answered my question. What are you doing?" She poked his wrist that had already been wrapped.
         "When you're fighting hand to hand, you need to wrap your hands so you don’t break them when you punch. A broken hand is hardly useful in a fight, and it’s not fun, trust me on this, I have experience breaking bones. I'll wrap yours when I'm done.
        "Experience?"
        Richard laughed to himself, "Well when I was human I loved to snowboard. I would fall on my hands hard, and broke everything from fingers to wrist to arms. I was a little accident prone when I was human," he smiled at her a bit embarrassed, "I use to carry my medical cards in my wallet just in case I got hurt badly. Proved rather a good idea I'm sorry to admit" Anastasia face was turning red with the effort of suppressing laugher.
        "That's so cute," she finally burst out capitulating.
        "You seriously think that it was 'cute' that I was accident prone?" Richard looked down at Anastasia unbelievingly. She nodded, eyes sparkling a light blue with merriment.
        "You're very strange, you know that?"
        "Yes I know that." Anastasia smiled up at him, taking his insult as a compliment. Richard rolled his eyes at her response, still smiling.
        "Ok let's see those hands." She held them out fists balled.
        "Ok open your hands, can’t wrap them like that."
        He wound the fabric tightly around her hand, starting halfway down her arm and working his way up. He concentrated on the knuckles, building up multiple layers. Anastasia felt like all circulate ion was leaving her hand.
        "Does it have to be so tight?" she asked as he did the other one.
        "Only if you want it to work right." he said finishing.
        "Are you ready to fight yet?" she inquired blissfully, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet throwing air punches.
        "How do you have so much energy? It's almost 2 in the morning." Richard asked as he walked alongside the still jousting Anastasia into the middle of the room.
        "Stop asking so many questions." She skipped about two yards away from him then spun around.
        "Hey you started it." Richard replied.
        "Not the point." Anastasia squared off with him, raising her fists in front of her collar bone. Her eyes sparked with energy from the new flow of adrenaline, changing from a sky blue to a dark bluish green. Richard assumed his own pose. Left foot leading by about 2ft, and both hands relaxed, his left held straight across his body just below his chin so it formed a shield, and his right held lower at chest perpendicular to his left, ready to punch.
        "On your mark," Richard responded, watching for changes in stance that would provide hints as to her first move.
        Anastasia nodded and dashed up to him, her speed closely matched with the velocity only achieved by a vampire. Richard easily deflected the first mad dash, tapping her on the back of the head as she went. Turning around she lunged back at him both fists extended forward. Being caught off guard, Richard barely had time to block Anastasia's punch, aimed at his windpipe. Richard had learned the day before Anastasia fought viciously, and this only reinstated that belief.
        "Good move, you're going to need a lot more finesse if you want to win in a real fight. You're telegraphing your blows." He said parrying a few well aimed punches.
        "I'm hardly trying yet. I don’t want to hurt you."
        "Give it your best shot, try this." He made a move with his left shoulder, and Anastasia raised her arms to block the punch, but it didn’t come, instead she felt a push of air against her face. His right fist was a mere centimeter from her face, she blinked and her eyelash brushed his skin. "See make it look like you're doing something you're not."
        "Okay I got it."
She assumed the standard fight position again and they began to spar. She drew back her right fist for a punch, and instead delivered a ferocious kick to Richard’s knee. He yelled out in pain, and starting hopping up and down.
       "What the hell was that!? That hurt."
       "I’m sorry, but can't you kick in fights."
       "Okay if you want to fight like that."
       The rest of the fight was a blur of limbs as both struggled to hold off the other. Though an innocent smile was painted on her face, Anastasia's eyes told a different story, flickering with  slyness when she attacked her victim, throwing punches deigned to stun or even kill her appoint. Richard blocked another set of punches then a round-house kick as he threw back a right hook. Anastasia dodged Richard's fist with a back-hand-spring, then came running at him again. Her angelic laughter sounded through the firing range. Richard smiled down at her as he caught her fist that was meant to strike him in the face. This time his laughter was heard as Anastasia's face showed her disappointment that he had blocked her punch. He then lifted her off the ground and gave her a light toss. She landed in a dive roll, and braced her hands against the mat. She coiled her body, and with all her might pushed off, stiffening her body like a boarded, her feet a deadly battering ram, missing Richards face as he ducked out of the way by barely an inch. Landing right way up, she smiled angelically.
Richard stood blinking, "I guess we're even in the nearly killing each other department" he said after some time. "That kick was incredible."
        "Why thank you." she said appreciatively.

*          *           *           *

The fight raged on until late hours of the early morning. Though Anastasia's fighting style had vastly improved. She was beginning to show signs of weariness. Her form had started to slack, providing Richard easy windows to strike. By the time the clock stuck 5AM, Richard was unwrapped her wrists, the tape had done its job, providing protection throughout the ferocious fight. Anastasia’s eyes were glazed, half open as she battled exhaustion, struggling to hold up her arm for Richard to unwrap it.
      “Someone’s a little tired.” A hint of mockery was detectable in his voice. Anastasia shook her head, even as her eyelids closed and her head lolled
        “No, I’m totally awake,” she said, her voice heavy with exhaustion.
        “Oh really?” Anastasia nodded her head as she raised her other hand for Richard to unwrap. Richard was enjoying her sudden weakness, seeing as she had beat him at knife throwing and had come closer than he ever thought possible to decapitating him in hand-to-hand combat.
        “Its 5:23 in the morning, you’ve been up all night fighting, you have to be exhausted.” Richard countered.
       “Okay, maybe a little.” Anastasia closed her eyes finally agreeing with him. Richard patted her head gently, making sure not to tap her too hard or else he might break her neck.
        “It’s OK, you need sleep. Give me a couple more seconds and then you can go up to bed. Sound good?” He smiled to himself, glad that his plan to tire her out had succeeded. She nodded once again, too worn out to speak. Richard laughed quietly as he finished unwrapping her wrists.
        “Come on.” He led her out of the firing range and up the swirling steel stair case. The soft light of morning had just started to peek through the tall pines, more firm reminder of the hours passed in the basement. Anastasia slumped through the living room and up the marble stair case to her room where she crawled into bed. Sleep hitting her like a brick wall, her eyes shut the second her head that made contacted with the white pillow. Richard smiled to himself as he pulled the cloud like sheets up to her shoulders.
        “Sleep well angel” his voice nothing more of a whisper as he quietly glided across the shining floor and closed the wooden door to her room.
        Richard’s footsteps made a soft echo through the now silent house. He made his way to the living room. Again he paused something still felt out of place, but nothing appeared out of place. Dismissing the feeling as paranoia, Richard walked over to the fire. Adding more wood he lay down on the couch adjacent, and watched the flames dance over the fresh wood. It’s power ferocious and indiscriminate, a truly fearful combination; he couldn’t help but compare Maison de Sang to the blaze that lay in front of him. The soft light of early morning was growing stronger through the huge bay windows, but Richard didn’t care. He was dog tired. Richard’s eyes started to close, sleep eluding him as he listened to the light popping of the fire.
Something was out of place, was racing through his brain, and that was joined by the feeling of being watched. Richard shot up and searched around him but nothing could be seen. Lying down, he closed his eyes again, this time sliding into a shallow sleep. A low whine sounded in Richard’s head, a warning that other vampires were in vicinity. The sharp ring continued to gain in intensity, louder and louder as the intruder got closer. Richard’s eyes flung open, he jumped off of the couch and whirled to the direction of the stairwell, about to sprint up to Anastasia’s room to make sure she was unharmed. A voice stopped him in his tracks.
“She’s alright Richard. I’m not here for her.” A dark figure emerged from the shadows still lingering in the corners. The vampire stepped into the morning light, revealing his face to Richard.
“Why did Maison de Sang send you?” Richard spat.
“Why do you think Maison de Sang sent me? Can’t I just drop in to see a good friend?” Connor’s tone was relaxed.
“Don’t give me that BS; I know that they sent you.” Richard glared at Connor, furious. His face was contorted in a sour expression, as if the words left a bitter taste on his tongue
“Fine, I surrender, they did send me.” Connor was pushing Richard and he knew it.
“Anastasia is safe. I’m doing exactly what they told me. I’m doing nothing wrong. Why did they send you?” Richard’s hands were curled into tight fists.
“Yes you’re doing a perfect job. We know she’s safe, that’s not why I’m here.”
“Stop stalling and answer the damn question.” Richard’s voice became a deep growl. Connor's jaw was clenched.
“Your mission is to keep her safe and be her guardian, not to be her little friend. You’re getting too attached to her, and it’s happily my job to remind you of that.” Richard stalked up so he was face to face with Connor, establishing his height advantage, and covering his surprise. He had not expected Maison de Sang to know of their growing friendship.
“You were put in charge of her. They can take her away just as easy. Maison de Sang wants her to join them, don’t mess up your spot at the top just because you don’t want her to join. Don’t be stupid and get attached to her, you know the servile rate of operatives.” Connor watched as Richard’s fiery glare dropped to the floor, his comment hitting home.
“I don’t want her to become an assassin. She’s not skilled enough to be one.” Richard struggled to keep his voice level so Connor wouldn’t pick up on his lie.
“You don’t have a say in wither she is or not.” Connor replied patronizingly with a smirk, “I’m warning you now, getting attached to her would be bad for both you and Anastasia.” It was all Richard could do to keep himself from laying him out. “Maison de Sang is coming for her. I know I don’t have to tell you that.”
“What, you came here just to tell me that? Well thanks but no thanks.”
“I’m here to remind you that your job is to keep her safe and nothing else.” Connor had started to tense up, becoming more and more impatient with Richard.
“Why can’t I like her? There are no rules that say I can’t.” He was getting ready for the fight.
“Because this is only temporary. Maison de Sang will make up their mind on what to do with her. The probability of her staying here in your care is very slim. You can like her, hell you can even love her, I don’t give a shit! And I know they don’t either. But when the day comes, when they come for her, when you’re watching their car disappear behind your wooden gate with her inside, you’ll be wishing you hadn’t cared so much about her, you’ll be wishing you didn’t have a heart.” Connor had now started to raise his voice. "Now personally, I'd love to watch you go through that but Maison de Sang doesn't see it that way."
“Just because they killed the girl you liked doesn’t mean they’ll kill mine.” Richard growled. This time Connor lost it.
“Maison de Sang doesn’t care if you love her; they don’t give a fuck about your feelings or what you want."
“You think I don’t know that already?”
“Just make sure Anastasia is willing to join Maison de Sang.”
“And what if I don’t?” Richard challenged Connor, though it felt like he was challenging the whole company.
“It doesn’t matter; you know it’s either join or death, I'd prefer the latter. If you run, they will chase you, and I will lead the pack; if you hide they will find you. They have in the past and I have no doubt they will now.” Connor’s voice was steady, his eyes were black with anger, and Richard knew he spoke the truth. You didn’t run from Maison de Sang; no matter who, or what you were, they would find you.
“It had to be you.  Maison de Sang has a thousand different operatives, but they sent you.” Richard’s words were almost lost in his snarl.
        “You know I’m the best in the biz, why would they trust anyone less with the protection of an angel?” his face contorted with fury.
        “That’s a lie. You know I’m the best now that Alex is gone. That’s why she was put in my care and not yours.” He was ready for any attack Connor might try and throw it back tenfold.  Connor’s only reply was a deep growl, a warning to back off, which Richard happily ignored.
        “Get the hell out of my house.” Richard’s voice was close to a roar. Connor stood his ground, challenging Richard to enforce his point. Seconds ticked by with no movement from either party. Finally Connor spun around, storming to the front door.
        “You can’t deny the truth. Wither you like it or not, she belongs to Maison de Sang now.” Connor snarled as he slammed the door behind him. When Richard heard the roar of his Mercedes and the screech of protesting rubber as it raced down the driveway, he knew Connor was gone. Richard still stood tensed for a fight, his fists curled into tight balls and his eyes spitting fire. He began to shake as the adrenaline that had coursed through his body returned unspent. He knew Connor spoke the truth, Maison de Sang was coming for Anastasia and there was no denying that.
*              *              *              *
    A new day broke dawn, bringing with it new hopes, as well as new fears. The morning light poured into Anastasia’s room as Richard flung open the blackout curtains waking Anastasia from her sleep, leaving her disoriented and confused.
        “What the...?” she rubbed her eyes sleepily. Richard’s quiet laugh sounded as Anastasia felt him sit down at the end of the bed.
        “I told you, you were tired.” Richard smiled at her, his voice quiet. Anastasia looked up at him confused by his comment. “You’ve slept for nearly 24 hours.” Richard laughed again as Anastasia’s expression turned to disbelief. She closed her eyes and pulled the cloud like sheets over her head.
        “Come on, it’s time to get up,” Richard pulled the sheets from her, exposing her to the morning light, “Don’t make me throw you in the pool, and I'm warning you now, I don’t keep it heated.” He teased.
       “Alright, alright! I’m up!” Anastasia sat bolt upright, at the idea of a dunking in ice cold water.
        “Thought that might work.” His smile revealed his lethal razor-sharp fangs, reminding Anastasia what he really was, though she no longer feared him for it. Anastasia rolled to the side of the bed and placed her feet on the floor.
"Wait you have a pool here?" she asked.
  “Yes why?” Richard questioned. Anastasia shrugged as she strode into the bathroom, grabbed her hair brush, and walked back into her room brushing her golden blonde hair.
        “I was beginning to think this house didn't have an outside.” She smiled pensively.
        "You really have had a limited experience of earth, what with being an Angel and all, you've really seen nothing of It." he agreed flinging a pillow at her gently.
        “Yes I know.” said Anastasia as smoothly stepped to the side as the fluffy pillow flew by her. The wind from the passing pillow blew her hair undoing her work with the brush.
        “What time is it?” she inquired as she strolled to the windows, gazing out at the pine trees and the lengthily driveway.
        “Around 9am.” Richard joined her; again his feet had made no sound on the glistening wood floors. Anastasia was getting use to his ability to appear at her side like magic, she found it almost reassuring. A minute ticked by as they both watched the light breeze play with the pine trees casting ever changing shadows on the driveway. They seemed to reach up to the house, trying to grab hold with their constantly moving fingers, though the house always seemed just out of their grasp. Then as the sun would rise higher in the sky, would beat down the malevolence shadows, until the sun itself sunk behind the mansion, allowing the castle’s shadow to overpower the trees. Night would come and bring with it shadows for all until the sun would rise; again the cycle would repeat itself.

“Can we go outside?” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading.
        “You have been stuck in this house for a while.” He agreed as his eyes met hers, his mind working out the probability of a vampire attack, and whether Maison de Sang would be happy with his decision. He doubted they would be. “Sure. Would you like to see more of the city? Seeing as you’ve never been to NYC before.”
        “That’s sounds perfect!” Anastasia’s eyes lit up, excitement taking over her body. Richard laughed at her, once again a smiled was visible on his face.
        “You want to take the motorcycle then?” this time his f ace was split with a smile from. Anastasia remembered the bike, with its headlights glaring at her like possessed eyes and the sleek and ferocious frame seeming everything but welcoming. She could tell Richard was thrilled to show it to her, she couldn’t say no, nor did she want to.
        “Alright.”
Richard grabbed her hand, she lurched slightly at his warm touch, she had been expecting freezing like the rest of his world, as he dragged her from the room and down to the garage, his strength nearly tearing her arm from her body. Anastasia's feet barely skimmed against the cold marble stairs as they flew down. Richard’s speed was incredible. Anastasia was pulled down the hall through the door to the expansive garage, nearly blowing the door from its hinges. Anastasia realized that it could possibly be dangerous for him to get excited; he seemed to lose all consciousness of his own terrible strength. Richard let go of her hand, leaving red marks from the pressure. A matte black helmet hung from a hook next to the bike, the visor tinted a shadow grey to protect the owner from glare, though Anastasia felt its main purpose was to add to the malevolence of the bike. Richard plucked the helmet from the rack and strode over to Anastasia, grinning evilly.
“Here you go.” He slammed the helmet into her outstretched hands.
“Where’s yours?”
“I don’t need one, but Maison de Sang will flip if you don’t wear one.” Richard rolled his eyes at the thought of Maison de Sang’s extreme paranoia. Anastasia slipped on the helmet and let Richard tighten it, hitting her on the top of the head when he was done, a measure to make sure it fit alright and wouldn’t fly off if she, god forbid, was thrown from the bike. Richard sat down on the bike holding his hand out.
"Ducati,” He said loudly.
Anastasia looked at him oddly, then jumped in surprise as the keys dropped into his outstretched hand from a voice activated compartment.
"How the..."
"Never forget my keys anymore," he said with a smile.
With a push of a button the motorcycle roared to life. Anastasia couldn’t help but feel a heap of fear in her chest, the image of Richard and his bike would send anyone’s heart rate up. Together they made a perfect pair, both intimidating and sinister, the image of darkness. The bike could not have suited him more. The headlights sparked fiercely. If Anastasia thought it looked alive before, it was nothing compared to the feeling that poured through her now. All the time, Richard smiled, extremely proud of his motorcycle. Anastasia wondered if Richard knew what he looked like when he sat upon it; how much they seemed the same; how much their image could stun people with fear.
“You ready?” Richard’s voice was hardly audible over the roaring engine.
Anastasia nodded, trying to ignore the growing feeling of dread that had crept into her mind the second the motorcycle’s headlights had drilled into her. The feeling had lain dormant in her mind until now. Richard was too preoccupied to notice her troubles; slowly Anastasia pushed herself forward, until she was standing next to the snarling bike. She swung her leg over the seat behind Richard, and wrapped her arms around his torso. The motorcycle seemed to roar, sensing her fear, deeming her unworthy to join Richard on his ride of New York. As soon as Richard felt her arms tighten around his waist, he twisted the throttle, and the bike jolted forward, nearly pulling her from the bike.
"You're going to have to hold on tighter."
He felt her readjust her grip, and hold on much tighter than before. He accelerated again, zooming out of the garage and down the driveway. Anastasia watched as the massive wooden gates swung open heavily. The last time she had seen those towers of wood, they had represented imprisonment, now freedom beckoned between their lips. Then they were through, speeding through the expensive neighborhood as the sun gently broke through the soft clouds and the wind whistled passed them. Sprawling manicured lawns and massive house with posh sport cars blurred passed in the blink of an eye. The bike roared down one of the many deserted streets, its sound shattering the peaceful silence. Richard slowed to a stop as they waited for the white gate to open, releasing them out into the world. Richard accelerated out of the immaculate haven and into the world beyond. The gate closed behind them, as if wishing it wouldn’t have to let Richard and his bike back in, glad they were no longer disturbing its peace. If Anastasia had thought their speed was impressive before, she was wrong. The wind whipped passed them with at least twice as much power as before, pulling at her fingers that were still wrapped tightly around Richard’s waist. They were her only seatbelt and, besides the helmet, her only protection. Richard weaved swiftly between the cars, the bike's unique design easily maintaining balance even at the outrageous speed they were traveling out. Richard felt Anastasia’s arms tighten around him as the bike knifed between two semi's with inches to spare and onto the freeway onramp. He glanced back at her, gazing through a flailing wall of hair. Her eyes were shut tight, unwilling to watch as he swerved in and out of traffic. She had never traveled this fast in her life. Even her free fall plummet to earth had not reached this insane speed. Richard laughed quietly and Anastasia looked up at him, she hadn’t realized they were so close until their eyes met. Amazed that she could hear his laugh with the white noise of the air flying past them, Anastasia’s eyes widened. They soon filled with fear as she realized that he was no longer looking at the road. Richard seemed to read her mind,
         “It’s okay. I got it, calm down.” His voice somehow made its way through the wind and helmet, as if they were standing alone in his silent house once again.
         He moved his attention back to the traffic in front of him and slowed as they left the freeway and entered the city. He felt Anastasia relax, starting to admire the city that loomed above them. High rise buildings cast shadows over the ground on which they rode. The sun reached nothing in the steel forest. A suspicious feeling clung to everyone, ever corner, and every building. But through the hostile emotion that coated the people that strode the streets to the point where they no longer noticed, there was beauty. Man made marvels seemed to be everywhere you looked. Bridges, skyscrapers, and even apartment buildings stole the breath of any newcomers to the concert jungle. Anastasia gazed up at the immense buildings, her head tilted towards the sky. Richard felt the front wheel of the bike lift from the ground. He glanced back and laughed to himself as he leaned forward slightly. As they sped over the bridge leading out of the city, Anastasia looked over her shoulder to catch one last glimpse at the world famous New York City skyline confused. She slid the visor up so Richard could have a better chance of hearing her question.
         “Where are we going?” The words reaching his ear, though the wind whistled passed them and the engine roared.
         “My favorite place isn’t in New York City.” The bike snarled beneath them as Richard persuaded it to go even faster through the traffic. Anastasia tightened her grip as the air presser threatened to rip her from Richard.
          As the concert buildings faded away they were replaced with bright green foliage. The sun beamed down on the tree leaves filtering through with a neon green glow. Richard’s driving seemed to relax, the traffic around them had faded with the city, and he could now admire the trees that seemed to enfold around them. The trees towered above them but let off an entirely different feeling than the skyscrapers. The feeling of tranquility was abundant as the sun hung over head, illuminating the road before them in a natural light. Soft shadows played upon the deserted road as the bike blazed down the black asphalt. Ferns lined the edge of the road and seemed to wave at them as they passed. Everything was a blur of green and yellow save for the spots of brow on the tree trunks that moss had not claimed and the black road that waved between the trees in a meandering unhurried way. Richard slowed the bike to 'slow' 60mph as Anastasia gazed out into the rich east coast forest. They pulled into a dusty turnout and together stepped off of the bike, Anastasia careful not to touch her leg against the scalding muffler. Richard gently unlatched her helmet and pulled it off. Anastasia blinked rapidly as the tinted visor was taken away, exposing her ocean blue eyes to the bright green light the filtered through the leaves around them. She looked around admiring the landscape and unbelieving that a place like that survive within an hour out of NYC.  Richard strode over to an unkempt passageway, its course unclaimed for many months; the raining brought nourishment to the plants and even more growth that seemed to strangle the underprivileged trail.
“You coming?” Richard questioned as he snapped a few braches that were overcrowding the way.