Long after the purr of the car engine rolls away, a low rustle and a soft breeze tickle the air above her body. A long tan coat brushes her bruised face already covered in tendrils of blood soaked hair. Mouth open and eyes wide, her face is frozen in an expression of horror. She lies in a discarded heap on the cement, the dust and dirt kicked up by the wheels of the old car clinging to her corpse. He kneels beside her, the man in the overcoat. His hand brushes across her eyelids and lips. With them both now closed, she looks almost serene, almost beautiful. Only he can see the shadow flickering across the facade, horrible and beautiful. The lifeless demon inside the lifeless shell. His rough hands gently pull back the bloody strands of hair from her face. His head falls to the side a little as intense blue eyes watch her dark face. Then, without warning, he disappears. He reappears with a large stack of wood. Silently, he builds a pyre outside the old abandoned warehouse. The angel and demon inside don't notice him as they head their separate ways. Cars fly by, their headlights barely touching the dirty building. The fallen angel is like a shadow skimming the walls around him. When he is done, he again kneels beside the beautiful demon. The terrible monster. His caretaker. He reaches an arm under her neck and another under her legs and lifts her up. Her head falls back over his fore arm and her hair brushes his leg. He places her on the pile. He stares at her. Any passersby would have seen no expression on his face, but those who knew him well might have noticed the brief glimmer of sadness in his bright blue eyes. His fingers play with the lighter in his pocket, hesitant to set the body ablaze. Finally, with an emotionless sigh, he pulls it out and flicks it on. The flames dance in his iris' and play with the shadows on her pale face before reaching out and grabbing the wood and cloth around her. He takes a step back and watches. The smell of fire and sulphur and burning flesh fill the air but he doesn't notice. He watches. Even as the body melts, he stands and stares. He sees the darkness embrace the flame. The demon greeting death. The sun has just touched the horizon with her golden fingers when the flames begin to die. The body is nothing but ash now. The alley with the wooden pyre is empty./p