She was running, running, running away. The rain fell heavily but she didn’t care. Her shoes were filled were water and her hair was dripping wet. She had to run.

There was hardly anyone on the streets, everyone wanted to hide from the furious storm. In fact, there was no one in the streets at all. She was alone.

She tried not to think about it. She blocked it from her mind. The sight of Abigail on that hospital bed, all weak and helpless, couldn’t do a thing to defend herself. It was almost pathetic.

She covered her ears when lightning whipped the sky followed by the roar of thunder. She looked up to the heavens to see a great thunderhead spewing lightning. Majestic it was, if she wasn’t so damned scared and the powerful combination of the howling wind and the rain was chilling her to the bone.

The rain was pounding the sidewalk so hard she thought the cement might crack and the raindrops whipped her face. They felt like icicles, the way they struck her face, sharp and painful.

She kept on running. Only God knows where she was headed for she did not know herself. All she knew was that she had to get away.

She fell. And the pain she felt burning up her knee was excruciating, a throbbing sensation that blinded her for a short moment before knocking her back to earth.

She lay on the sidewalk, filthy water running about her, seeping into her already soaked dress. She bit her lip to keep from crying.

You aren’t alone.

She was being lifted. Being gathered in a warm embraced that melted the ice from her bones. She looked up to see her angel. His face, as usual, held no emotion but she could feel his concern. It wafted around her like a heady perfume. Her arms wrapped around him. He felt almost solid, almost flesh, even though she knew he wasn’t made of the same material humans were made of.

The storm was forgotten, as there were no more raindrops striking her face. The rain hadn’t stopped, he was just shielding her from it.

She closed her eyes and she could feel his smile on her. Slowly, gently, like the west wind, he carried her in his arms.

He set her down in front of an old Victorian mansion. The ruins of what was once a proud house, which probably had once sheltered nobles underneath its roof.

She looked at the house, and felt a strong pull towards it. The house appealed to her senses, it’s beauty touching her innermost thoughts.

Yes, indeed it was beautiful. The house had the sad, graceful beauty in it’s disorderly chaos. The shutters were rotting and unhinged and the west wing had collapsed, the stone and mortar crumbling. It was the withered beauty of the ancient frail, faded and almost forgotten.

This is a spiritual beauty. The house may be old and empty now, but it is alive with the memories it holds. Mysteries that had been solved and mysteries yet to unfold.

He was beside her so she felt safe. There was a faint essence in the air, that was so remarkably him. She took a step towards the building, on a gravel path that was overrun with weeds.

She reached the great doors. The large slabs of wood seems to have not been touched by time, the intricate carvings still beautiful, the sheen dulled a bit. They hung open, the hinges had rusted.

As she stepped through them and into the great hollow halls, there was a strange chill that didn’t seem natural. She simply stood there, in the center in front of a grand staircase, and listened. There was a low thrumming sound, like the very foundation of the building was breathing.

In a sense, this house IS alive. Alive with the souls of those who were born here and those who came to their rest. Reasons of their own they have, as to why they linger about in this wretched world.

As you do? Elizabeth asked him, looking deep into those emotionless eyes. Searching for answers she could not find. It was like seeking for something but looking entirely in the wrong place but she did not know where else to look.

As I do.

Why do you stay here then? Why do you chose to guide me, protect me? I wonder why I took to long to ask you this. What does a powerful spirit such as you have in this ailing world?

I have you. That is reason enough.

Is it? How about those before me, my predecessors? How am I different?

I search continuously, for a soul that would match mine. Sorrow for sorrow, Pain for pain, Tears for tears, Laughter, Happiness and Joy. They are simple things that I lacked when I was still material.

She shook her head and broke the reverie. It was too confusing to talk to him, there were too many questions left unanswered. Verily, over the years he had perfected the art of answering a question without revealing all.

Continuing down the hall, she started up the creaking staircase, careful to skip the steps which were prone to give out soon. The steps themselves were decaying, the combination of age, mold and termites had ruined it. The balustrade had once gleamed golden but was now a dull bronze color, gravely in need of polish.

She explored the old house. Examined the paintings and portraits on the walls, the gilded chandeliers, all lost artifacts of an age almost forgotten. Hours passed and she was still not done, it was fascinating. Her angel had grown quiet and slowly drifted away. She did not mind, he was always there.

She came to a large room, covered in dust as most of the rooms were. It might have been a ballroom, the grand windows were grimy and cracked, the broken glass allowing the cold breeze to enter the room.

A hand closed on her shoulder. With a startled cry, she spun around to see her assailant.

It was a boy, a few years older than she with light brown hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose. His lips were stretched wide with a large devil-may-care grin, showing his straight even white teeth. His eyes were amazing, green they were, and though that was a fairly common color, they blazed with energy and recklessness that was barely controlled.

“Hey, easy!” His voice was that of a boy who had almost passed through the cracking stage, though an occasional squeak might slip in.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded, too surprised to say anything more intelligent.

“What are you doing here?” He shot back, though not in an unfriendly way.

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“Then what I am doing here doesn’t concern you either.” His voice was challenging her, daring her to argue further.

“What if I own this house?” Elizabeth injected as much snootiness in her voice as possible.

“You? This house has been abandoned for years. I don’t believe you.” He looked at her steadily in the eye.

She was annoyed that he was not the least bit intimidated; yet she did not find him himself annoying. Quite fascinating it was.

“How do you know it’s been abandoned for years?” Civilized neutral conversation was the best path, she supposed.

He grinned even wider, if possible. “That’s simple, I live here and so’s a buncha others.”

He leaned close to her and whispered. “That’s supposed to be a secret, y’know.”

She crossed her arms and gave him a suspicious look. “Why are you telling me that if it’s such a big secret?”

For the first time, a wary look crossed his face. “I really don’t know. I never really am this mindless, most o’ the time.” He shrugged. “There’s just somethin’ about you, y’know? That kinda tells me that it’s alright, that I can trust you.”

He looked at her straight in the eye. “You’re not going to prove me wrong, are you?”

A little flustered at the instant trust placed in her, she whispered. “I won’t. But I don’t even know your name…”

“It’s Lark.” He laughed, and she had never heard a sound so imbued with mirth. “Or at least, that’s what I call myself, so others call me that too.”

“My name is Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth…mind if I call you Eve instead?”

She poked him in the middle of his chest. “That has nothing to do with my real name.”

He gave another one of his unconcerned shrugs. “So? What’s a name? You didn’t even choose that name. Your parents did. I bet you don’t even like your name.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t really like it. It just doesn’t fit me. But why Eve?”

“It’s short and simple. Too many things in life are drawn-out and complicated.”

She looked at him. “You have an interesting philosophy in life.”

He smiled. “C’mon. I’ll introduce you to the others.”

He started out the open door, half-skipping and half-walking.

She stared at his retreating back, wondering if she was doing the right thing. What he said earlier, about trusting someone on instinct, it somehow worked. She felt that she could trust him, despite the fact that she knew practically nothing about him.

The thing was she didn’t trust herself.

“Should I?” she asked out loud, though it was only a whisper.

There was that cold draft of air that accompanied his arrival. It soothed her and made her feel secure.

“I suppose I should.”

// I’m so sorry for updating so late but I had typed this down already but it got deleted by accident and after that I was a little discouraged. I also had a hard time figuring out what I should do, since new ideas keep warring in my head. I will try churn chapters out faster. I hope…//

//Thank you once again to all who reviewed!//