o1; so i bet you're curious about how i ended up here...

My name is Lilly-Marie Moretti, I'm sixteen - seventeen in about a month, and as of this moment I do not know where I am - but I was born in New York, and for most of my life, I lived in Beverley Hills, California. My father is a famous director, and my mother his star actress. I have two sisters, both older than me, both out of the house. I'm the spoiled youngest child in a too-wealthy family. Lucky me? Definitely. Until today, at least.

Maybe by writing it down, I'll find a way of proving to myself that this is real - that I'm not losing my mind.

I'm not sure, cause I'm not wearing a watch, but about eight hours ago, I was kidnapped by someone - something - that is impossibly unreal...

"Lilly-Marie, darling?" I heard my mother's sparkling voice outside my bedroom, over my music. I turned it down quickly - my mom didn't exactly appreciate my taste, and she didn't like having to yell at me through the noise.

"Just Lilly, mom," I corrected her, opening my bedroom door, to reveal the mess it was in.

My mother rolled her eyes (azure blue, just like mine) at me, at The Blackout, playing jaggedly in the background. She was dressed in a sparkly, cream, knee length gown - despite being fifty one and having three kids, she was still twice as youthful and glamorous as me. You'd think I'd be more fashion-conscious, living in the Hills, but I'd inherited my father's stubborn attitude.

"That's us leaving for the premiere," She told me, "You know we'd have brought you, but I don't like the idea of you being around all those paparazzi people - anyway, if you decide to go out then leave me a message on my cell."

I knew my mom thought I should be more like my sisters - they were both more interested in lavish parties and glitter than I was. I preferred the company of books to people - I always had - another one of my father's qualities. Mom wanted me to be more interested in the premiere, I could tell.

"Yeah, no problem, mom," I shrugged. I felt that I really wasn't missing anything when it came to the premiere. I wasn't interested in the movie anyway - every time I'd seen my father in the past months, he'd gone on for ages about it. I could probably recite the entire script backwards.

"We should be back late - if you want anything to eat, then ask Renault, he's in the kitchen now I think, but he's leaving soon. Try and eat healthy dear..." She eyed my figure speculatively, searching for phantom kilograms. I resisted rolling my eyes.

"I'll be fine," I emphasized, "Go have fun."

"Angela! She'll be fine - let's go!"

That was my dad from downstairs - rescuing me. I smiled and his voice echoed around our enormous house. My mom sighed resignedly, and turned to totter downstairs in her eight hundred dollar Jimmy Choos.

"Have a pleasant evening," my mother said, "But try and do something productive dear..."

"I guess..."

From the look on her face I was pretty sure that she actually wished that I was going out to a nightclub with a boyfriend she despised. I went back into my room, turned up my music. It wasn't that I didn't have friends... Okay, I didn't exactly have many - but that didn't mean I hadn't had fun either. I was still a teenager.

So what to do now? I slumped onto my bed, and considered calling a friend, or more likely an acquaintance, sneaking out. But I felt kind of tired. I stared across my room to where a huge mirror sat - my mom had her way with designing my room - unfortunately.

My bored reflection stared back at me - with a pale porcelain face and stormy blue eyes that could maybe even be pretty if I tried to look after myself more. My hair was soft, lying warm on my shoulders in a shock of bright orange-red. I took after my mother in looks. I had her small, lithe figure - though apparently still not slender enough for my mother's tastes. I had some curves, perhaps, but I was very far from fat. My oversized "Born Of Osiris" t-shirt hid any figure I had though.

I had a couple messages on my phone but I decided I didn't feel like replying. I was going to lie around, watch a gory horror movie, and eat popcorn until I burst. What could be a better way to spend a Friday night?

It was ten minutes into the movie - the first few people had been turned into zombies and were now gnawing off people's limbs - when I heard Renault leave. He called up to me to let me know, and I said it was fine, and goodnight. It was just me now. I wasn't edgy about being in the house alone. For a minute I considered calling someone, my sister or something, but dismissed the thought.

I got pretty engrossed in the movie during the next hour. It was pretty bloody. It ended with the main character having to amputate his best friend's arm without anaesthetic before everyone in the building got contaminated. I felt shivers going up my spine.

I don't know if the movie was making me paranoid - but as I meandered my way to the kitchen to put away the popcorn bowl, the shivers were still there. The room I was in was cold - which was no surprise, given that it was so big and the fan was on... But I felt like I was being watched. I was the only one in the house right?

Nevermind, I thought, trying to shake off bad vibes. It was just a silly movie, messing with my mind. But I still hurried my way back up the stairs to the untidy sanctuary of my room.

Crack.

It was a tiny noise, something as insignificant as a branch snapping in the wind (of which there was none), but I froze. It sounded like it had come from downstairs. Maybe something had fallen onto the hard floor?

Whatever. It didn't matter. I turned on some music. Loud music. That would keep any ghost noises at bay while I was in the shower. I turned the noise up loud enough so that I could hear it clearly in the ensuite bathroom next to my room. I turned the water up hot and stepped in, flinching a little at first, but adjusting to the temperature.

The next noise was loud enough that I could hear it through Gorjira. A dull thunk against the wall. Was I really just imagining things? Now I really was freaked. My hands shook when they reached for my fluffy black dressing gown, and wrapped around my still dripping wet frame - I literally leapt out of the shower.

"Renault?" I called tentatively. Maybe he'd forgotten something and come back.

I got no answer.

On my playlist love a trainwreck by we came with broken teeth came on, and I shrunk back. The quiet but strong notes were soothing and frightening at the same time. I wanted to turn it off, but I was afraid the silence would only freak me more. I grabbed my phone and looked for a number that I wanted to call... And couldn't find anyone in my contacts who would be remotely helpful. Cursing, I dropped my phone in my pocket of my dressing gown.

I turned around. Something black crept at the corner of my vision. I blinked and it was gone.

But it wasn't actually gone, no. I could feel their gaze crawling on my skin. Something sharp and sweet smelling drowned my senses. I could feel them moving behind me.

I ran, but I knew I never had a chance.

Before I even realised the cold, iron grip around my torso, I was looking into a pair of eyes so intensely green it was like they were burning a hole through my skull. My heart felt like it wanted to explode out my ribcage, my breath caught. I tried to struggle and I couldn't move. My mouth opened, and all that came out was a terrified, stunned croak.

The face I was looking at was possibly the most terrifying, beautiful, lethal thing I could imagine. My captor had pulled me close in his icy hard grip and I was leaning close to him. I could identify his features, memorised them - the strong line of his jaw, and the planes of his flawlessly symmetrical jawbones. His eyebrows were pulled together slightly into an almost, but not quite glower, and beneath them his jade eyes blazed supernaturally. His skin was unblemished, lightly tanned, and perfectly smooth. His hair was dark and had clearly not been given any thought - but it was perfect. His full lips curved upwards into a cruel smirk, and finally a triumphant grin.

His teeth were very white, and flashed at me dangerously. For moment I didn't recognise his front canines - how they were extended, sharpened to a point like a snake's or a jaguar's. Then I did. Fangs.

I could barely compute what was going on, but eventually my mind unscrambled what he'd said.

"Try and struggle, and I'll slit your throat." His voice was astoundingly calm and indifferent, in a smooth baritone that could have been charming if he wasn't threatening to kill me.

I was gaping at him in disbelief. This couldn't be happening to me. I had never been so scared in my life, every beat of my heart pounded in my ears. And yet... There was something else that I didn't know yet. I could feel it. I closed my mouth shut tight, but I didn't shut my eyes. I couldn't look away from his darkly angelic face.

He jerked my neck back like I was a rag doll, exposing my throat, and a crazy thought ran through my mind.

vampire.

But he didn't bite me. I felt something smooth and cold being wound around my neck, like a necklace. I wondered hazily if he was going to strangle me with it. I could feel the heavy silver resting on my collar bone, moulding to my shape, and I couldn't breathe again.

Then as he fastened it behind my hair, it felt like the back of my neck was on fire, hot white fire, the kind that melted bones. I gasped in pain, but as quickly as I'd reacted, the fire went out. On reflex, I tried to reached for my neck, but like lightening, his hand was around my wrist, forcing it down to my side effortlessly. His lips once again formed that secret smile.

"I've found you at last," he said, looking into my eyes, his voice barely audible. Then he laughed mockingly.

"W-what are you?" My voice finally seemed to have caught up with my mind, and I blurted out question after question. "What did you just do to me? Why are you in m-my house? Are you-"

"Later, if you don't mind," he scowled, warning me. His eyes flashed, angered. "We need to go."

"W-we?" I spluttered.

He took no notice of my confusion. He picked me up like I weighed nothing, and again, I shuddered at how cold his hands were. What happened next, I still don't understand or believe. He seemed to move, or the world seemed to blur around him. Then he was standing on my front porch in the dark night - with me still held in his infallible grip.

It was only then, when the cold wind hit my skin, still bare under the flimsy dressing gown, I realised was being kidnapped.

I thought of my parents, my sisters, my friends and family. I thought of all the people in Beverley Hills who didn't even know who I was, and realised, none of them could save from this creature. Whatever he was. I was helpless.

Then he kicked off the ground in one fluid movement. I screamed, expecting to be flung flailing to my death by this psychopath that had simply ran in and plucked me from my home. But then something even more horrible happened. Long thick, black feathered wings unfolded, I could feel the muscles ripple on his chest as they did. I drew in a breath of disbelief and maybe even awe. My kidnapper had wings.

an angel?

And fangs.

But right now, that wasn't my main concern. I was hanging a hundred feet in the air above solid ground, on the grace of someone I could not even prove existed. Below me was certain death. Above me, holding me, not very securely to his chest, was god knows what. It was not looking good.

"What are you doing?" I gasped, suddenly aware of how cold flying was when you were dressed in almost nothing, and your hair was still wet. The man, creature, angel... whatever, didn't answer me. We were slowly going higher. Looking down was making me feel ill. Tiny lights... The Hollywood sign, visible from a distance, glowing. Oddly enough, this could only belong in a movie... Against my better notions, I wrapped my arms as tightly as I could around his neck, knowing if he wanted he could let me fall to my death. And I closed my eyes, and tried to convince myself this wasn't happening. It was just a nightmare.

"Take me back." I muttered under my breath, over and over, like a mantra.

I was so shocked I nearly let go when he replied to me.

"This is real, human. Get used to it." His voice was quiet and steady, compared to my shredded nerves. "I won't turn back... You will never see your home again."

"What?"

He was silent.

As the time passed, the air grew colder still. My shivering turned to violent shudders, that hit my bones painfully off his constricting arms. Locks of my wet hair were frost covered and I was almost sure my lips were turning blue.

Where were we going? How far were we going? I wanted to look down, but I was afraid of falling. Finally, I summoned the nerve. And my fears were confirmed. Below us was thick deep snow, and mountains. And to think we'd been in California only a couple hours ago. I didn't even know such a place existed on this continent. Maybe I would never see my family again... It was either go to god-knows-where, with god-knows-who... Or die.

So I let go of him.