Alexander decided to check up on the woman whose mind, he could sense, was a raging cacophony. He could sense that she was in the apartment, pacing up and down, clearly agitated about something. He wanted to make certain that he was not the cause of it.
After all, his fall from grace, no pun intended, had placed them both directly in the path of hell. Alexander was at his satirical best tonight.
However, it was short lived. She had better not remember anything, was the one thought occupying his narrow world view. His eyes blazed with rage, as he thought, God alone knows how I have suffered for this...
Alexander followed her from the apartment, concealing himself in the shadows by blending effortlessly into the night. Years of training meant he could become virtually invisible, if he so desired. Though this was nigh on impossible in twenty first century London: camera’s and streetlights had the monopoly of the whole area. After all, they had been trying to capture the supernatural for centuries, yet how close were they to any so called documented live footage? he thought contemptuously.
He had been taken aback initially as he had not expected her to run out of the apartment. At one point, she nearly ran towards him, but at the last moment, instinct made her change course. Too late. One night and a couple of hours too late, he thought sardonically to her retreating figure. Run where you want, but you cannot outrun yourself; no more than I can change what I am.
He watched her with dark amusement; he had never seen a human run so fast, as if the very hounds of hell were at her heels. He kept up an easy pace, curious as to her sudden panic. After all nothing was after her... except himself. He stayed in the shadows, matching her pace for pace. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins as her heart beat fast. Even with her muscles tiring, he watched as she raced into the unknown.
There was a blinding flash of light thrown across her path from a passing police car which seemed to frighten her, he noted, throwing her off course so that she unwisely ran into a tunnel.
Irritated beyond belief, Alexander raced ahead of her, his presence barely registering with the woman. How do you distinguish shadows? He decided to scout out the tunnel, being alert to any dangers it could hold for her.
As far as Alexander was concerned, the only dangerous thing about this tunnel was the damp disgusting smell offending his highly developed senses. He turned around just as he felt the woman’s presence behind him.
Caught off guard, he stupidly inhaled sharply. That did it, it was enough, the woman heard him. He pressed himself flat against the tunnel wall hoping she would run straight past him. Instead, she spun on her heel and tripped.
Alexander raced forward at inhuman speed and caught her before she hit the ground. He gently lowered the unconscious woman and checked her pulse rate. It was racing. She must have fainted, he thought.
‘Stupid. Utterly stupid,’ he mouthed in a fierce whisper. ‘How many times do I have to save your life?’ Truth be told he was angry with himself. ‘I should have stayed away.’
Alexander proceeded to gather her in his arms as he started the irksome journey to her home. He continued to speak to her, keeping up his one sided tirade; more to pass the time really, than any considerate gesture.
He carried her using pathways: they were portals, secret roads in the world made of supernatural energy. Demons and others could use them as shortcuts when travelling through the world.
Alexander was briefly outlined in a fiery red light as he sped along the illuminated path. In those brief moments, the river had glowed a demonic blue, and the stars burned fiercely above them. Everything had either passed by in a sickening blur, or at other points time had slowed down, so that every image had burned brightly, and he reached her home in no time at all.
He arrived barely out of breath. He admired the building before him; it was as lofty as his ideals. He carried her through the dark underground car park, heading straight for the lift. As he approached, the lights went out and silently the lift took them up.
The doors silently parted, and he immediately walked towards the apartment directly in front, instantly knowing that this was where she resided. The door opened before him, and he walked through the dark apartment, eventually laying her down on the couch and, grabbing a chair, he sat before her. He was almost her dark guardian angel. Though he felt less than angelic towards her.
‘What am I, her bloody babysitter or something?’ He scowled at the woman. This is what you’ve reduced me to. He thought of the great warrior he was once considered to be, now reduced to a new low. And I thought it couldn’t get any worse.
He crossed his long legs and, drawing in his coat, folded his arms as he settled in for the long night ahead, glowering at the woman before him. I’m damned either way, he thought as his expression reflected his troubled mind.
He looked out of the window and observed the stars burning fiercely, and the moon that blinded in its intensity. He was blessed with superior senses courtesy of his heritage. Sometimes within a curse were gifts; if only he had looked close enough, he would later learn...
Alexander decided that he had a few hours to kill, so why not spend his time more productively. He left the woman dreaming as he wandered around her apartment, intending to get fully acquainted with his charge.
He admired the ornate black mirror that hung in the hallway. Demons and angels were carved into the ebony frame, with vines and roses binding them intricately into the eternal dance of death. Danse macabre, he thought resignedly. Reflected in the mirror was the face of a thirty year old man, who currently had tranquil sapphire eyes. There were no lines etched into his pale face to tell the story of his life. His hair was the colour of midnight, and his features appeared as if they were carved from granite, with high etched cheekbones.
He turned away from the mirror as he continued his exploration of her apartment. ‘Who are you, my lady?’ he mused aloud, but for now she was an unknown woman.
He wandered into the open plan kitchen that adjoined the living room, and feeling quite hungry, went directly to the fridge. He looked over its contents, this woman certainly likes to eat, he thought, admiringly. Alexander loved food, and had an insatiable appetite. He spotted a homemade chocolate fudge cake and, cutting himself a slice, placed it on a white porcelain plate edged with silver. I think I’ll have another one. Strictly speaking, just to keep my energy up.
He walked over to the kitchen unit and opened a draw at random. It must be divine intervention, he thought, amused at the draw full of cutlery. Grabbing an ornate silver dessert fork, he made his way over to the dining table.
His expression lit up at the first mouthful; never had he tried a cake so rich and decadent yet soft at the same time. ‘My compliments on your extraordinary culinary skills, my lady.’
Finishing the cake, he switched on the coffee machine, then got back to the task at hand as he made his way over to her bedroom.
Alexander felt awful about going through her private things, thinking it beneath him, but needs must, he reminded himself, as he began his search.
On the bedside table was a photograph with writing beneath it. In it was a woman with long rich brown hair that framed her soft face. Her striking green eyes captured his notice as he looked upon her joyous expression.
Standing on either side of her was a man and a woman. The man had large honey brown eyes with short brown hair framing his face. The woman on the other hand, had the same brunette hair as his charge, and her green eyes were beaming as she too, wore an expression of fierce joy.
The inscription below the photo read: Miss Rowanne Knight and parents on this joyous occasion of her Graduation with First Class Honours in Journalism and Mythology. University College London. They were standing in front of a grand white domed building. Impressive facade, he thought absently. ‘But more to the point, Ms Rowanne Knight, I have finally made your acquaintance. Even though I lament the fact that we have not as yet, on your part I should say, made a formal introduction.’
Alexander saw no further need to pry and, leaving the bedroom, he returned to the kitchen just as the machine signalled that his coffee was ready. He rummaged in her cupboards, but this time he was not so lucky; but on the fourth attempt he finally found one containing cups. He took his coffee and settled into the chair before her, ready to begin his vigil.
Rowanne was trapped in a nightmare from which she could not seem to awake. She was running away from something... She was in a midnight world where the landscape was deformed, and the darkness infinite, and in every direction she turned, there were shadows. As they moved towards her, she ran blindly down unknown paths heading towards... There’s no light, there’s no light! her mind screamed. The darkness suffocated her as the shadows began to close in.
She screamed, her heart beating wildly. In the midst of her inner turmoil, she reached out for something... anything to keep her sane. Inexplicably she saw a flash of green, and suddenly someone was holding her hand, even though its owner was obscured. It guided her through the nightmare world. The green fire which was blinding in its intensity seemed to keep the shadows at bay.
Alexander felt her panic as her breathing quickened. Putting down his coffee, he leant forward just as Rowanne screamed and grabbed his hand. Caught off guard, his power surged to the surface, his eyes blazing an emerald green.
He hissed, feeling her fear as she squeezed his hand in a death grip. Slowly he encased her hand in both of his own to act as an anchor for her in this world so that she could safely find her way back. Alexander knew the power of dreams: it was so easy to get trapped within them, not knowing what was real and with no palpable way out. Especially the dreams of my world, he thought with a shudder.
Gradually Rowanne’s heart slowed its frantic beat, returning to its normal rhythm. Still, Alexander could not make himself let go in case she relapsed. His green eyes smouldered as he continued to watch over her, never stirring from his position.
The moon bathed the apartment in a warm light as it passed through the floor to ceiling windows, creating a silhouette that played on the wall, outlining a man sitting beside the prone figure of a woman, with their hands clasped together for dear life.
CHAPTER 3
Rowanne tried opening her eyes but it was a tremendous effort. Still in that transitional state between sleeping and waking, she felt her hand encased in another’s. Is someone holding my hand? she wondered, smiling.
Alexander slowly removed his hand as her eyes began to open. He vanished just before she woke.
Finally her eyes snapped open, confirming what she already knew, that she had been holding tightly to the blanket. Slowly, reluctantly, she let go.
The cold morning light illuminated her empty room, banishing the last remnants of night. Rowanne felt peace and disquiet in equal measure, not to mention the missing security guard weighing heavily on her mind.
She checked her messages; ten missed calls from work. Eileen wanted to know whether the assignment was completed for the main cover story for the weekend. ‘Drat. I should’ve completed that piece within two days.’ It was Saturday morning, and she had until midnight to submit it in for the editorial team, she reassured herself.
She immediately logged onto her laptop and accessed her work account. She emailed her manager to let her know that she would be working from home. Not a minute had passed before she received an instant reply from her head of department, which read: ‘Not happy, Rowanne. Your outstanding record seems to be slipping. I’ll get David to cover the weekend issue next time. Clearly you have other important matters to attend to that take precedence over your work. FYI, we have a temporary office set up on the top floor, just in case you were under the mistaken belief that we had shut down in the interim.’
Rowanne counted to ten, slowly exhaling. Eileen had this effect on all who worked for her. Of course they would set up a temporary office whilst the investigation was ongoing; contrary to what her manager had thought, she had actually been expecting it. There was a reason why their paper was successful; Eileen would not let it close under any circumstances.
Rowanne could practically hear the acid drip off each word. Honestly, she thought. Not a week goes by that she doesn’t threaten an employee with David taking over their position. She laughed it off, as she imagined poor David with a look of confusion as to why the rest of the team avoided him most of the time; he was the only one out of the loop.
She definitely needs to work on her staff motivational techniques! However, Rowanne reminded herself, instantly sobering up, she worked for one of the top newspapers in the city; excuses were unacceptable.
She opened the article she had been working on and found that it was not nearly as bad as she had initially thought, in fact it was almost complete. There was some source verification to do, and then it was just a matter of concluding the piece.
Rowanne went to the kitchen and made herself a coffee. She turned the radio onto Magic, with all her old favourites beginning to play. The joy was fleeting as she took her coffee directly to the bedroom, and worked away.
Her phone was her background accompaniment, constantly ringing with colleagues checking in to verify last minute information, not to mention the editorial team, who wanted to ascertain whether they were actually going to receive a completed piece. Finally, as the sun set, she was almost finished, her coffee long forgotten, but she forged on working with ruthless precision. It was just before nine when she sent off her final completed copy to the editorial department.
Rowanne got out of bed and stretched her stiff muscles, having barely moved from the same spot all day. She dragged her tired body to the kitchen, and looked in the fridge for something easy to eat - she had no intention of cooking this late. Luck was on her side as she spied leftover pasta which she duly took over to the microwave. She spotted her shop-bought fudge cake, and cut herself a slice. Rolling her eyes heavenward, she sighed as she spotted two slices already finished off. It’s gotten to the point where I’ve absentmindedly started eating... Well, it’s not like I always have the time to cook. The first mouthful of pasta brought instant gratification, even if it did taste a bit like cardboard.
Rowanne waited anxiously for the team to get back to her as to whether they would be running her piece or not. She decided to run a hot bath to help her wind down. She looked at her tired gaunt reflection in the bathroom mirror; the puffy eyes and dark circles certainly complemented her undead look.
As she was stripping out of her clothes, she froze. ‘Why am I wearing my running gear?’ then as quickly as the panic had set in, it left as she recalled the events of the evening before. She had been running along the river last night and then... came back home and collapsed on the couch, too tired to change or go for a shower. I must have just fallen asleep. Thinking no more of it, she slipped into the bath and closed her eyes, letting the troubles of the last two days melt away.
The editorial team finally got back to her confirming that her piece had been met with approval and would run alongside tomorrow’s headline. She realised that the majority of headlines and stories would be centred around the break-in, as well as the altercations. I want to know what’s happened myself, she thought, having a vested interest in the investigation.
However, she was shattered and let her train of thought go momentarily. The last email she received was positive, reading: ‘Congratulations, Rowanne. Knew you could do it, had complete faith in you. I’m sure you know the David thing was just a joke. Enjoy the weekend, but don’t forget, bright and early Monday morning.’
Ha-ha, I’m in stitches, thought Rowanne, irritated and dead tired.
She respected Eileen; no matter how much she got on her nerves, she could still picture her sitting in her office, working well into the night. Eileen was tall and slim with raven hair that was always tightly pulled back into a bun to stop it from distracting her. Her piercing gray eyes could turn glacial if anyone were to get on the wrong side of her. It was a hard business running a newspaper but Eileen did it with
a steely determination. She was meticulous; all stories had to meet her high standard before receiving her stamp of approval, only then would she go home after a long day’s work.
Rowanne fell into a deep sleep just before midnight and had the same nightmare. She was being chased. Just run, don’t look back, she thought. To make matters worse, she was constantly being bombarded with sharp objects which she tried to evade as best she could, but her legs were in agony, as she pounded along looking for a way out. Unfortunately, this time there was no hand to guide her, but suddenly her amethyst necklace shone so bright that it was almost too painful to look at, causing her to close her eyes. She cautiously opened them whilst shielding them with her hand. She could see paths that seemed to criss-cross over each other winding away in different directions. Without another thought, she picked the path closest to her and ran blindly down it, hoping that it would take her away from whatever was chasing her...
CHAPTER 4
Rowanne’s eyes flew open, and, checking her alarm clock, she saw it was ten o’ clock. ‘Damn, I’ve overslept.’ She got changed, peeling off her clothes that were drenched in sweat as if she really had been running all night.
She looked out of the window at the miserable day; the city was covered by an incessant downpour. I can’t even see as far as St Paul’s, it’s that bad, she thought.
After breakfast she set about cleaning the apartment and completing all the tasks she had neglected for a week. By twelve o’clock, she could hear thunder as lightning flashed haphazardly throughout the city, and feeling restless, she decided to go for a run.
Rowanne was completely drenched but she didn’t care, and continued to run right across Westminster Bridge, turning in the direction of the London Eye. To her it looked like a giant water wheel, the way the water cascaded off the pods, curtaining each one as it did so.
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