The Start

"Anything, please, anything. They can't know, no one can!" The woman in the white dress screams at the man. Her veil is still covering her face, her hands are bloody. The red stains in her dress like nothing else.

"Anything you say?" the man smirks and reached into his pocket and pulls out a card. It pitch black and all that was on it was a spilled teacup in red ink. "When you are truly meaning anything, the address will appear from this card." The woman grabbed the card and looked at it, when she tilted it, the teacup shined.

"When will I really mean it—"she began but the man was gone. She looked around but it was no use. The woman sighed with thoughts racing in her mind, she left the ally and didn't dare take the carriage home, and instead she walked home. She was greeted with a murder scene. What if her driver would tell someone and spread rumors that would just be the end for her! The knife was on the floor next to her fiancé, the body was lifeless on the carpet. She noticed his eyes were dry as she walked over to him. She rested on her knees next to him and touched him face lightly with her fingertips.

"Today was our day, my day. Why did you have to ruin it?" She said in her soft voice.

The woman picked up the black card. She needed anything that would get out of this situation. What if people found out about this? She would be locked up, and no one would ever want to marry her. She needed a man to survive, her mother was wrong. She was a rich girl; she would never work for herself though she could.

"Working for yourself is so stupid, why would you if you could have some sucker do it for you?" She remembered the words her friends would say when they found out about the marriage-to-be.

She held the card in her hand, so tightly by its edges. But no matter how much she tried to crush it, it wouldn't. In her finest clothes she waited to see if she would see the same man as before. Her heels were on the cobblestones and she looked in the far distance of the town. Fog touched London's streets and there wasn't anyone in sight. She relooked at the card and held it to her face.

"I gave anything, my body, part of my money, my life." She said to it like a baby. The spilled teacup lit up, the red glowed so bight. She bit her lip and the next words came out in choked words, "My soul." Now it shined like nothing before, the card began to dip directly for the cup. She held the card and it dripped faster now like running water from the sink pouring on the floor and it dripped on her. The red water was like a river and it was filling the gaps between the cobblestones and kept going. The woman held it out with fear; she was so shocked about what was happening. The fog thickens and she could barely see her hand. The red water formed a huge circle on the ground and hardens. The circle sank in and left a dark hole in the ground. Stairs appear in the darkness, black as night. The woman looked at behind her and gripped the card. She peeked into the hole but she could not see the bottom or even if there was any more stairs after this. She sighed. Her expensive heel knocked onto the steps.

"Sir Francis, please wake up!" A voice said. Francis opened his eyes to meet with a big-eyed boy in his normal suit. Francis stretched out his arms and fixed his hair.

"What is it Acelet?" he yawned. Francis pulled back him blond hair and shook himself in effect to filling wake himself up.

"Your late for the council meeting—again!" He yelled with worry. Francis eyes opened up wide and jumped out if his desk chair.

"Why didn't you say that before?" Francis grabbed his keys off his work desk. "Lets go!" Acelet rolled his eyes and went to grab both of their coats. He passed the many bookshelves to the closet. He was short and small but he reached up high and grabbed both their coats. "Its time to lock up." He said meeting up with Acelet. His apprentice gave him his coat and they both headed out of the bookshop and to the busy street. People we sawing "good day" and "have a good morning" to each other. When they would say to them, they would say it back nicely and head off. They both walked hand by hand to down the street.

Francis looked at his watch; they could maybe be easier than usual late—as always they were. Running up the paths they made it to the church, it wasn't Sunday, so no one was really there. Barely anyone was there. Francis and Acelet could no take their breathes from going so fast. Still holding hands, they walked behind the church. Flowers pecked out of the cobblestones and the sun was gleaming—even though it was London. Behind was so a statue of an angel reaching up high to a ball—but it was not there. The statue was incomplete because the maker died too young to finish. But either way, she was beautiful. Francis reached up to touch the hands of the angel with her wings out in the air, but a small tugged him coat. He looked down at Acelet and saw his face. He understood. Francis picked up Acelet in his arms and let him touch the angel's hands. The statue's hand's flexed and her fingers moved. After a moment, she made a circle with her hands in the air. Both Francis and Acelet stood back. She pointed to them—to the sky—and then backs to them. At the tips of her finger glowed a white light, and a beam came out and stiked them both. Unafraid and filling aware of what to come, they stood there. The light absorbed in them as they began to hover.

"I really hope we're not that late." He says looking up.

"But we always are." Acelet responded. Still holding hands they rose into the air and through the sky. Clouds passed them as they raced and the wind whistling in their ears. Soon enough they spotted a wide beautifully, heavenly, building that sat on the other clouds. They came to shortstop and as their shoes touched the marble—they feet became bare. Acelet was no longer wearing his suit by a toga and Francis wasn't wearing his bookstore-uniform, but a stylish suit. They walked and passed the marble columns and the people there. When Francis was in their sight, they bowed and said "Good Morning" in the most respectable manner. Acelet put his head up even though they weren't really doing for him, but for the man he holding. Francis nodded to them and gave small "as to you" to them. Through the halls of marble statues and paintings they walked and onto the room of large marble doors that were a different color compared to the rest of the building.

The doors opened up for them to the room of rows of connected desks that led up on the walls and up the room and dozens of people sitting in those rows.

"The council." Francis said to himself softly.

"You're late!" a voice from across the room yelled. He looked to the direction to see a blond haired, green eyes man.

"Sir Feliks," Francis began as they both walked up to each other, meeting up.

"Why are you always late?" he asked. "That's not proper at all for an angel."

Francis shook his head, passed him, and walked over to his seat.

"Of course, because I'm an angel." He sat down. His seat was in the "special-zone" next to higher up angels than normal. Feliks sat next to him with a sour face.

"Specially with someone as high as you, you make the rest of us look bad. Your a Great Angel," He said. Francis couldn't help but laugh.

"There are worst things than being late." He responded. Feliks shook his head and gave up the conversation and that he win—as always. The other angels realized their daily talk over and started to get back to work. One of them went to the center of the council room and had papers in his hand. She gave a few coughs to clear her throat and began telling off the day. Acelet sat with other of his kind beside the glorious desk is master sat at.

Hours passed and when everything was over, everyone bowed to each other and to the Great Angels. They began to walk out of the council room with silence in respecting the Great Angels. Francis exited the room with Feliks with the other Great Angels in a line; the other angels stepped aside for the Great ones. In the front of the building, the bit of floor of marble where Francis walked on to get in was a statue of a human, a small child that reaching for the floor. One of the Great Angels touched the child's hair and from hair in flowed like waves. The child looked at the Great Angel and they're hands touched. In seconds the child gave off a glow and the Great Angel took it in. Releasing the hold, the Great Angel went to the edge of the floor and jumped off—leaving a path of glow in her tracks. The other Great Angels followed. Suddenly, Feliks pulled Francis a side and walked with away from the crowd. He led him to down a hall where he was sure no one was.

"We need to talk." He started. "The demons are becoming more tricky and they are taking souls left and right. Them stealing the souls before they die naturally through either time or fate, is really messing with us." Francis rarely ever saw Feliks serious like this. "There is many in London, I'm sure you know that your paying attention too, but you can ignore that mission right now."

"But I thought we had connections to take them down, why are you making me doing this personally?" Francis asked.

"They have connections as well. There is a group in London that is not just connecting demons but monsters as well." He said back. Francis nodded in understanding. "I need you to focused on this mission and start taking them down, one by one. My apprentice is giving yours the information where and when. Our contacts with meet with you later."

"Can you give me the name of the demon I really have to kill?"

"All we know, it loves to drink tea." Feliks left it at that and walked off. Acelet came into the hall and spotted him. Francis met him halfway.

"Are you ready, Master Francis?" He asked.

"I have to say I am," they grabbed hands and walked to the child statue.

That's the first chapter, I hope you liked it. Sorry for an grammar or spelling mistakes, I really don't reread my work. The next chapter will come as fast as the viewers enjoy it.

Comments, thoughts, ideas?