Twilight Oneshot
1923
The old building of worship towered over the rest of the city, a brooding reminder of man's mortality. Glass stained windows and decorated arches representing sanctuary for the innocent and humble, and judgement for the wicked. Though they may claim to not believe, fear of an inevitable death and eternal judgment weighs heavily on a sinners mind.
The hunter of hunters can attest to that, as he waits, crouched next to a gargoyle atop the the grim cathedral. Perfectly still, listening for his prey. It's somehow suiting: starting his hunt for the wickedest of minds from the dominating structure.
He listens not with his ears but with his mind. He hears the preacher below, as he gives the repentant sinner his hail Marys. He hears the the expectant mothers dreams after going to bed at last. He hears the tired worker reaching home and collapsing into bed, too tired to care that their stomach is empty.
Perching next to the hideous stone statues the hunter's beautiful features, perfect in every way, are thrown into stark relief, against the course skin of his stone and mindless companions. The full moon glistens as it dances across his marble features. The only thing separating him from the stone surrounding him, are his eyes, bright and aware.
Waiting.
The clock tower clanged through two more hours before he quit his perfect stillness. The change from stone to movement was instantaneous, shorter than the length of a heartbeat. He was on the ground with wings to his feet, he raced to the hunt, the monster awakened after another, different kind of monster.
A young woman, smaller than average in stature and wrapped in a dull green shawl walked stiffly, thick dress swishing around her ankles as she tried to ignore the prickling sensation on the back of her neck. She glanced furtively behind her, hoping desperately that the unwanted shadow had left, that she was being paranoid, seeing things, The larger part recognized her danger, attempting to look casual she turned into a sideway in a desperate hope to get to more public arena-
it was a dead end alley.
He must have sped up, or been closer than she realized, because when she whirled around in an attempt to flee the trap closing around her, he was there blocking the way. The large, much larger than her slight form, man stepped forward. A cruel smile crawling over his stubbled and lined face. His breath smelt like liquor.
"Please sir, if you let me on my way I would be much obliged." Her voice was surprisingly steady for how hard her heart was trying to escape out of her chest.
"D'n't be unfriendly to me now." The man slurred complainingly, sick grin widening as he let a breath of foul smelling air her way.
He quickly advanced on her, his speed inconsistent with his size and the probable amount of alcohol he had consumed. She unwillingly put her back against the wall trying to keep distance between them. Desperately fighting back the fear trying to rob her of her voice, she breathed shallowly eyes wide with terror, sending a silent wordless prayer that somebody anybody would hear, and come before anymore precious time could be lost, to her rescue.
He came slowly closer. Enjoying closing in on her. He blocked the light from the street lamp with his bulk dimming the narrow alley.
A cat to mouse, he had a knife in his hand now. Before he could lunge to stop her, the scream that had been building in her chest erupted out of her. He slammed a rough hand over her throat causing her to choke off before it could go on too long.
"Now, now why the fuss? I just wanta-"
But whatever he wanted to do she thankfully never found out as he disappeared right in front of her, ripped into the sky. She gasbed in shock chest heaving as the light suddenly filled her vision again. Before she could regain the presence of mind to run, or even blink, his body was falling to the dirty cobblestone. Her rescuer landed barely a moment later, crouched catlike in a close fitting, to his lean frame suit jacket, vest and tie, top hat in hand.
The stark contrast between him and the slovenly dressed body made the situation even harder to grasp for her strained mind. Scrambling to keep up with the sudden change of script, she looked at him wide eyed, dazedly wondering how he managed to keep his clothes wrinkle free through dashing around on rooftops and saving damsels.
Questions flowed through her mind as she slid down the wall, adrenalin fluttering through her veins the panic far from gone.
"Your admires dead. He won't bother anyone again." The impossibly soft voice answered the loudest of her questions, without her speaking.
She stared near uncomprehendingly at her unexpected savior, his face was shrouded in shadow.
"You're bleeding." The angel continued, low voice like velvet.
She looked down, she was. The knife slipped out of her stomach as she watched clattering to the ground and splashing the dirty cobblestone with blood. She couldn't quite comprehend the sight. Pain still far from her mind.
He moved closer stepping into the light, eyes downcast movements impossible graceful, yet dangerous... like a stalking lion.
"You came." She stated blankly, voice far away. When she had sent a prayer up for a miracle, an angelic being to directly interfere had seemed far too much to hope for.
"Amazing. Not frightened of me?" He inquired, tilting his head. The movement was decidedly inhuman, something else. To smooth to come from a normal man.
She was surprised. Why would she be frightened? He had saved her. Her side began to hurt. She felt the cold first, she gasped involuntarily at the sudden pain.
Seeming to make a decision, the startling angel came forward, for the first time allowing her a good look at his face. Her heart paused for a moment. He was heartbreakingly beautiful, impossibly perfect, the tousled bronze hair and the marble skin reflecting the moonlight giving his adonis like features an unearthly glow. She had no doubt she was looking at an angle. No mortal man could possibly be so dazzling.
But his eyes were red, a brilliant, blood red, matching the color oozing over her clothes. Somewhere in the back of her mind the begining of fear began to consider coming out, but his expression was far from the cruel look of her late attacker.
His lips glistening and only a few shades pinker than the rest of his face, curved rather in a subtle frown of not unwelcome confusion: matching his, perfectly groomed, drawn together eyebrows.
"Don't be frightened," the deadly creature before her crooned. Ducking his head so he looked up at her from beneath thick dark eyelashes, veiling his unnerving eyes somewhat. The movement causing the atmospheric moonlight to shift and churn across his chiseled features and brighten his non-conforming hair.
When spoken too like that, in a hypnotically commanding voice, the fear that was only beginning to creep through her mind left. She relaxed even more as he continued. Beautiful, dangerous eyes looking at her imploringly.
"I don't want to hurt you." He gently lowered himself beside her. "I'm going to help you."
She blinked, it was all she could do. The pain was catching up to her now, flooding her mind and making it difficult to think and even breath.
"Hush… I've got you."
Whether she passed out from bloodloss, pain, or even relief, she wasn't sure. It was a flickering unconscious.
"What is your name?" He asked at some point while working over her.
Maria, Maria Swan. she thought, not trusting herself to unlock her jaws lest she start screaming and she knew if she started she would never stop.
"Lovely name."He complimented casually his cold hands brushing over her slippery, feverish skin.
The night seemed impossible long, the hours dragging slowly, impossibly slowly. Through the haze of pain and exhaustion she became aware of an odd flying sensation.
Was she dead?
No, no she decided, she hurt too much to be dead.
The hard cold ground was back, light was shimmering, people were close, she could hear them.
"Thank you." she murmured through a fog of sleep as the strong arms released her onto the ground a musical laugh sang from above her. Her angel left, but first he had patched her up and brought her to her own neighborhood. Killer, but still an angel.
Many years later Edward Cullen found himself hopelessly in love with a direct descendant of Maria Swan's only brother, who would never have met his wife, if he had not ran to the doctor after finding his younger sister wounded and lying on the street, telling delirious tales of beautiful angels who came from the sky.
HI! This is my first ever posted Fanfiction, and I would love to hear that you've read my oneshot!