Chapter 1

Rolling out of bed at eight in the morning is never a pleasant thing, but add in not getting home and into bed till three hours earlier, and it's a feat not even a supernatural creature could accomplish. Well, that may be a great exaggeration, but at least I get across how hard it is. I staggered across my room, my socks not exactly giving me grip on the hard wood floor, and out, down the stairs to our huge kitchen. I squinted into the sun light that came in through the skylight in the room. I smelt bacon, sausage, and biscuits and my stomach growled none too subtly and Papa turned to me, smiling as bright as the morning sun, his bright white teeth a stark contrast to his cooper skin.

"Morning, Ann," Papa said just as brightly as his smile, "Nice to see you are among the living this morning."

'If only you knew,' I thought as I trudged to the table, "Yeah, sure," I mumbled, "We're all happy, all so excited that I'm missing out on my wonderful, much needed 'beauty' sleep."

I heard a crack, a sizzle, and then the smell of eggs hit me, "Look," I said, "Can you just feed me? I have to get to work and I can't be late, so please don't lecture me on how I need more sleep or its negative effects on my 'gift'. I have work to do, Papa. You make you're living serving the dead. You support us doing something you love, others don't have a choice. I'm one of those people. So I get my work where I can."

"I wasn't going to lecture, Ann," Papa said calmly as he flipped an egg, "I was just going to feed you and ask how last night went. I know you know the lecture by heart now, so there's no point in it anymore. You're twenty now, I know you're old enough to decide what is best for you. I just get worried that you're pushing yourself too hard."

I sighed, now it all comes full circle to me, "I know I worry you, Papa, but sometimes I just don't have a choice in the work I take, you should know that. Being a Necro doesn't exactly give me a lot of options."

Papa flipped the egg again and then pulled it out, sitting it on a paper plate next to the stove. He opened the oven door and pulled out a tray of biscuits, using a black hot pad, and then sat it on the stove top next to the plate of bacon and sausage, "I understand," Papa sighed as he made a plate then came to sit across from me, "Now," he slid the plate across to me, "Tell me about your night."

O, boy. Last night, he just had to ask. I took a deep breath and began to eat, "It was okay, I guess," I said through my mouth full of food, "Nothing special."

Boy, okay was I lying like a cheap rug. Last night was anything but ok, not that I could tell him that. The rules were the rules; I couldn't break them even if I wanted to.

"Rule one," Dragun said with his hand on my head as I knelt on one knee in front of him, "You may tell no one of your pledge to me and mine. Rule two, you may not pledge to any other nest until I release you from your pledge. Rule three, no matter what you are doing, or what is happening, you must come when I call on you. Rule four; you may not become sexually involved with any other nest member other than me or my second. Rule five; you may not use your gift unless I direct you otherwise. Do you understand these rules as they have been dictated to you by your Master?"

"Yes, Master Dragun," I said solemnly.

"Do you accept these rules as they have been told to you?"

"Yes, Master Dragun," I said.

"Then, Angel Seraph Noelle Reave," Dragun said and I felt the power of his words take hold of me, "You are now my Charge."

I rose and looked my vampire Master in the eyes, not afraid of this dead thing, but full of fury.

"Leave," Dragun commanded with a wave of his hand, "Until I find a need for your gift."

I bowed respectfully, even though I wanted to spit in his face and tell him what he could do with his pledge and rules, and left.

"What did you do this time?" Papa asked me, unaware of my reminiscing.

"O, the usual," I said as I drank the iced tea sat in front of me, "Just research and stuff."

"And what or who were you researching today?" Papa asked to pass the time as we ate.

"No one in particular," I replied as I finished off my last piece of bacon and biscuit.

Papa nodded, he knew he wasn't going to get much out of me, "Did you learn anything interesting?" he asked to keep up conversation.

"I guess you could call it that," I answered pulling up my feet into the seat, "He has a bat fetish."

Papa snorted his gravy and coughed as he tried to swallow his food and laugh at the same time, "As in the object or the animal?" Papa ventured when he could breathe.

"The animal," I replied calmly.

Papa laughed so hard he wasn't making a sound and I started to worry he wasn't breathing.

"Papa?" I asked, "Are you alright?"

He held up his hand and took a deep breath, still chuckling, "Yes," he smiled, "I'm fine."

I smiled and stood, stretching my taut muscles. I put my plate in the sink and turned to leave. Papa grabbed my wrist and I turned to him. He held out his arms to me, he always knew when I needed comfort, and I leaned into his chest, wrapping my arms around his broadness, "I love you, Angel," Papa said and kissed the top of my head.

"Love you, too, Papa," I said and pulled back, "I gotta go do some research, Papa. I'll be back late again, so don't wait up, 'k?"

"You be safe, you hear me?" Papa's voice took a dangerous tone I almost never heard him use and I couldn't help but smile.

"I always am," I smiled as I pulled his face down to my level to kiss his forehead, "You worry far too much. I think I can see a little gray, actually."

"And you're a dork," he said as he ruffled my dirty blonde hair, "Go on."

I shuffled my way up stairs to my room and my bed, walking away from it as it called me back into its comforting embrace. I grabbed my towel and clean clothes and walked across the hall to the bathroom. I turned on the water and moved to the mirror, pulling my shirt off as I went, and looked at the pathetic reflection that was mine. My dirty blonde hair was flat, thick, lighter brown then blonde really, my green eyes were dark, the color of old tree side moss, my skin was a tan, cooper, more the color of caramel, and I couldn't believe my eyes. I spun around to face my intruder. Luckily, I was in my sleep shorts and bra and not naked as I had planned to be, when I faced Shane. His tall, muscular frame seemed to take up all the space he occupied where he leaned against the door. His arms were crossed as he watched me, his eyes undressing what little clothing I had left on, his gray eyes memorizing every inch of my short, thin frame.

"Is there a reason you're here or just to make my day worse?" I questioned crossing my arms.

"Not particularly, no," Shane said, his Irish accent very prominent, as he stood and sauntered over to me, "Though I may come this way more often, I do love a show."

He reached up and stroked my bare shoulder, "You're lucky it's me and not Kayleb," Shane continued, "He so very much loves to torment you, you know. But Master Dragun thought it best for me to go. Wise choice don't you think?" he questioned as he trailed his hand up my neck, tucking my hair behind my ear.

I shoved his hand away from me with a look of disgust, "What does Dragun want?" I asked trying not to sound too pissed, "I just got my assignment last night, and it takes time for me to research this stuff."

Shane smirked and ruffled his hair, rearranging the short, gelled spikes, "He simply wished me to check on you, make sure the rules remained unbroken," he sighed as if this were something he's rather not be doing, "You know how he loves his rules and he wanted you to know you could use your gift as you wished on this assignment."

I sighed, put one hand on my hip and the other on my forehead, "Can you just leave?" I asked him as I looked at the floor, "Papa is right down stairs and I have to get to work. Tell Dragun to take a chill pill, I know what I'm doing."

Shane just huffed and then was gone, leaving only the whoosh of air rushing in to replace the room left in his departure. I breathed a sigh of relief and then proceeded with my shower. I got out twenty minutes later, dressed, grabbed my messenger bag, and went down stairs to tell Papa I was leaving. I heard voices just as I entered the mud room and call out to Papa. I suddenly felt very uneasy, an indicator that there was an undead or dead-reanimated near.

I walked into the living room and saw Papa talking to a man I had never seen in my life. He was tall, taller than Papa who was easily six foot seven. He had shoulder length white blonde hair and the blackest eyes I had ever seen. Then I smelt the death that seemed to cling to all undead and dead-reanimated. I froze and took in the man completely. I didn't like him at all; he wore black slacks, a white button down short sleeved shirt, black dress shoes with black socks, and a tie loosely hanging around his neck. Then the swirls appeared as I focused closer on him, black and gray mist that seemed to fade and reappear. He was a dead-reanimated and he was the vilest thing I'd ever seen, so evil it made my stomach queasy.

"Papa," I called as I started to double over, holding my stomach.

He was beside me faster than I could track his movement, "What is it?" he asked, straight to the point.

"Him," I barely managed to say, "He's wrong. Evil, dead-reanimated, so evil, Papa. I can't stand it!"

"Is there a problem, Andrew?" the corpse asked, "Can I be of any service?"

I felt my breakfast starting to come up and gagged, the smell was unbearable and I couldn't seem to breathe, "I need out," I breathed.

Papa took me by the arm and hauled me out of the house, ordering Corpse to stay put until he returned, "What was wrong, Angel?" Papa asked once we were out in the clear autumn air.

I took deep breaths, trying to purge my system of the toxin that was Corpse's stench, "That guy," I said, "He's a dead-reanimated, and he's so evil, Papa. How could you not feel it? It was seeping from his every pore; I couldn't breathe because so much of the stink was in the air."

Papa stared into the distance for a moment, trying to make sense of the situation, "He's a messenger," Papa said finally, "From your uncle, Quintyn. He had just arrived as you had come in."

"How could you not tell?" I questioned taking hold of the ornately crafted protection symbol Grandmother Reave had given me for my eighteenth birthday, "It was all but oozing off of him."

"I do not know, Ann," Papa replied solemnly as he turned and grabbed my shoulders, "Don't return home tonight. Find a place to stay, for now. I have to go visit your grandmother for a short time and I do not know how long this will take. But this," Papa took the hand that held the protection symbol in his hand, "Never take this off. Keep it with you no matter what. Am I understood?"

"Yes," I said, I was scared but knew what I had to do, "I love you, Andrew Edward Reave," I whispered as I took my tall Papa into a hug, "Be safe."

"I love you, Angel Seraph Noelle Reave," Papa whispered back as he held me tightly.

I pulled away and left, feeling dread slowly leach into my being. I was afraid for Papa's life because I knew without a doubt that he was in danger. But there was nothing I could do and that knowledge killed me.

The best thing I could do was go to school, try to relax and focus, and get through the day. I'd ask my friend, Clyve, if I could stay with him for the night. If it still wasn't safe to go home, I'd have go to Dragun's nest for shelter and living with vampires for an extended period of time was not what I would call a 'dream get away'. I sighed and readjusted my bag on my shoulder. I'd do what I had to do, there was no other option. I turned my thoughts away from that and focused on other things I had to do. I had a paper due at the end of the week for my literature class, a test in my choir class, and if I didn't hurry I was going to be late for my first class of the day, Intro to Art.

When I made it in, I was just barely in time. I sat my stuff to the far left of the room and arranged my tools just as Mr. Kismet came in. He told us today was a free day, but that what we created today would be taken as a grade. I smiled; art was one of the few places I was at peace. I cleared my mind of everything and began to free sketch. I didn't even hear time called and class dismissed until Mr. Kismet came to me and laid a hand on my shoulder, "Ann," he said in his rich Scottish accent, "Class is over. . . This is amazing."

Huh? I looked at my picture and saw what I had free sketched.

It was me, surrounded by red, purple, gold, and silver swirls of smoke, taking up all the background, holding my protection symbol out as an offering to the on looker, a smile on my face came across as determined, yet shy and unsure. All around me on the paper were figures, people I knew and some I didn't. Papa was there as well as Grandmother Reave, Shane, and Dragun. There were four others I did not recognize. One man, short blonde hair, gray-blue eyes, broad shoulders, slim waist, tall, had his arms wrapped around me almost as if he were protecting me from the other three people, but, his face held more than just a protective look, but also a longing, pained, caring look, as if something awful were going to happen to the girl he held and, through his expression, he was trying to tell the on looker this and it made my heart ache for his pain. There was a woman, tall, black hair, cooper colored skin, black eyes, slim waist, narrow shoulders, long legs, and a look that said she would kill you if you stood in her way. Two men stood on either side of her; both looked alike, flat brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, broad shoulders, and thick muscled waist. But one looked away from the woman, though his twin was focused on nothing but her.

"I wasn't exactly paying any attention to what I was doing to be honest," I said quietly as my cheeks blushed, slipping the pencil in my mouth.

"I think it's some of your best work, Ann," Mr. Kismet patted my shoulder and his hand lingered a second or so longer then I was comfortable with.

Physical touch was not something I did with anyone except Papa.

Period.

"Um, thanks, Mr. Kismet," I mumbled, "Well, I have to get going, sir. See you tomorrow."

"Bye, Ann," he called after me as I rushed out, taking my sketch with me.

Lunch finally came around and I met up with Clyve. Clyve isn't your everyday guy; you know the type, blonde, blue-eyed, tan, tall, athletic. No, Clyve is thin, short, wiry, pale, black hair, brown eyes, not an athletic bone in his body, and his not into chicks. That's one of the great things I love about my best friend, he's completely and irreversibly gay. His boyfriend, on the other hand, is your average guy (average, that is, if you don't count his being gay). But they're both sweet and weren't the least bit shocked when I spilled the beans about being a necromancer (another awesome quality) and they are the only people that are allowed to tease me, at least not just to be cruel and hateful, they tease just for a laugh. Then it hit, I wouldn't be able to stay with Clyve. His boyfriend, Gaunter, had just moved in with him and from the complaints I've been hearing about tiredness from the both of them, I had no urge to actually know why they've had so many sleepless nights.

"Hey, you sexy thing!" Clyve shouted across the room at me and made me smile. I rushed over to them, clutching my sketch book to my chest, "How was Intro to A?" he asked when I ran up and hugged him.

"Funny you should ask that," I started when I was suddenly "bumped" into. I turned around to see one of the school's jocks, smiling as he held on to the cheerleader girlfriend, "You should say sorry, you know. It's polite, and I'm pretty sure, for the most part, we live in a semi-polite society."

"Oh, look," the cheerleader, Chacey, said as she rubbed against her boy toy, "She speaks, Robby. The little freak has a voice; I guess I owe you twenty bucks."

"I'm sure he'd easily take the money from elsewhere, Chacey," Gaunter smiled at her, "Just spread those pretty little legs of yours and he'd be just pleased as punch."

Chacey looked absolutely pissed for a few seconds, then Robby stood up for the poor creature he had to call a girlfriend, "Don't talk to my girl, faggot," Robby said, oh so intelligently.

"Why?" I scoffed under my breath, "He's into to dick, and even if he were straight, he defiantly would have better taste than Chacey's nasty ass snatch."

"Why don't we all just calm down," Clyve said gently walking between the two alphas before things went from just words, to physical altercations, "We'll just be on our way and you guys can go about your days."

"Mind your own, fudge packer," Robby sneered at Clyve, "I was talking to fag dick here. If I wanted your opinion, I'll go take a shit."

Clyve's eyes teared up, he was not the fighting type and words easily upset him. So this is when I had to step in, it was my fight anyways; I wasn't gonna let them duke it out for me, I'm a big girl after all.

"Robby, back off," I said evenly, as my fists clinched up at my sides, "There's no need for insults here. Just keep walking on your merry way and we'll get back to our, equally if not more, productive lives. I mean really, what do you accomplish by picking on a couple of gays and their freak best friend who would gladly kick your ass for so much as looking at them wrong?"

"Stay out of this, bitch," Chacey snapped, "This is between dick-sucker and my man, keep your slutty mouth out of this."

Okay, when I say I don't usually get in fights, I mean on the rare occasion someone doesn't piss me off by insulting my family or my friends. So when I tell that I was reaching my limit to not fight and punch the living shit out of that slut, I want you to realize just how angry I get, 'cause when I pulled back my fist and was about to let fly, I was aiming to do serious damage, ya know, breaking her pretty, fake nose and maybe even busting her fake lips open, too, just a thought. But something stopped me, I'm not sure what it was, maybe some understanding that wasn't reaching my fast- approaching-pissed-off-ness that we might be being watched by some higher power then my violence or maybe it was my Grandmother Reave's protection charm doing its job, whatever it was that stopped me, I'm glad I listened cause just about that time Robby swung at Gaunter. And then my choir teacher, Mr. Toque, came up to pull Robby off of Gaunter and sent him to the dean.

"Are you ok?" I asked as I rushed to Gaunter's side, "He didn't hurt you too bad did he?"

"My ego mostly," Gaunter huffed as he stood holding his nose so no blood would drip on his polo shirt, "I'll be fine."

Clyve was nearly in tears at the sight of Gaunter's bloody lip and nose, "Baby, are you alright?" he gushed gently pushing me aside so he could tend to his lover, "I'm so sorry I didn't do anything, sweetie. I should have done something!"

And now Clyve was in tears and it was Gaunter consoling his gentle, passive boyfriend, "Are you alright, Gaunter?" Mr. Toque asked him with Clyve under his arm, gently crying into his chest.

"Yes, sir," Gaunter said stiffly, holding his jaw with his free hand, "I'll be a little worse for wear, but all in all I'll survive."

"Good to hear, good to hear," Mr. Toque said then turned to me, "Miss Reave, could I talk to you in my office."

It was an order, not a suggestion, and I hated having to follow orders and not having a choice. So I followed him down the hall, two rights, and then a left, and entered in behind him, leaving the door open, just to make me comfortable.

"Could you shut the door please, Miss Reave," he asked, sitting on his desk.

I shut the door and my comfort level went down a few notches, "What did you need, sir?" I asked standing by the door.

Mr. Toque indicated to the seat in front of him and I slowly and reluctantly sat on the desk he indicated. Mr. Toque had shoulder length deep, brown hair, one blonde streak on the left side, light blue eyes, a red-brown goat-tee, and a lip ring. He was rather handsome, hot some of the girls would whisper back and forth in class. I could sort of see it, I guess, but I just could see why they would get all hot and bothered about him, sure he's rather attractive, maybe it's just that I wasn't really into the thought of a relationship of the physical kind. Mr. Toque wore a sleeveless, black button down shirt that showed off his well muscled arms and lose blue jeans.

"Are you alright, Miss Reave?" Mr. Toque asked as he stood and walked over to the desk I occupied.

"Yes," I answered shyly, "Why do you ask, sir?"

"I was just curious," he said as he leaned onto the desk, "You've seemed a little odd all morning is all."

"Odd, Mr. Toque?" I said confused as I began to bounce my leg nervously, "How do you mean?"

Mr. Toque reached up to tuck a strand of my loss hair behind my ear and I blushed, noticeably, "Out of sorts, so to speak," he said, its British accent wrapping around the words in the air playfully, "Are you sure you're alright? Mr. Kismet said you were a little strange in class today, so naturally I was worried."

"Why would you be worried, sir?" I asked leaning back in my chair, leaning away from Mr. Toque as unnoticeably as possible.

"I always worry for my students," he said leaning in more, "Especially, my favorites."

"I thought professors weren't supposed to have favorites?" I pointed out as more of a question then actual statement.

"It not that, per say," he said now only a few inches from me now, "We're just not supposed to show it, though at times I find it hard not to show it, especially to you, Ann."

The alarm on my watch rang, but Mr. Toque didn't seem like he was finished explaining just how much I was his "favorite", "Sir, I think I should go to class," I whispered. He was very close, too close for my comfort zone to be happy and my awkwardness with this was showing I was sure.

"I'm sure you could be late just this once," he hinted, as he stroked my exposed arm, sending chills through my entire body. Not good chills, God no. Those terrified-bunny, deer-in-head-lights chills. The kind of chills that both froze my heart and sent it into overdrive at the same time. The kind that made my stomach turn.

Mr. Toque took advantage of my surprise and leaned in to softly brush his lips to mine and then lean in for a full kiss. I was so shocked, I didn't do anything for a full four seconds (yes, I counted) then without warning I pushed away from him and ran out, "I'm sorry, Mr. Toque, I have to get to class," I called behind me as I bolted out the door and into the hallway.

I didn't stop till I was out of the building and in the courtyard. There, I sat at a bench and breathed deeply, trying to catch my breath and sort out the events that had just occurred all at once. I was in shock; I had never expected Mr. Toque to be like that.

My heart was racing and now the thought of going back to the class, without a friend with me, I was a little nerve-racking. Where had this come from? I couldn't understand it; this was why I didn't date, people were very strange and I didn't always understand them or their intentions.

I let out a slow, long breath, unsure of how to proceed after the incident. I was shaky, jittery with shock and uncertainty. I leaned back and straightened my spin, it didn't matter anymore. What was passed was passed, and there wasn't anything I could do to change it, so I just took a deep breath and stood. I walked back inside the building and headed to my class.

"Miss Reave," Professor Johnson said as I walked in, clearly peeved that I had interrupted her class during her lecture, "So nice of you to join us today. Is there a reason I shouldn't kick you out right now?"

"I was with Mr. Toque," I said quietly, "He needed me to help him something during lunch and it ran into class, I'm sorry. I promise I won't let it happen again."

Boy, did I never want to let it happen again.

Professor Johnson sighed and gestured to the rows in front of her, "Take a seat and I'll make a call," she said.

I ducked my head as I claimed the steps to my usual seat as the professor moved to her desk and pulled out her cell phone. She turned her back to us and murmured to the phone. She sighed, "Well, next time you're going borrow one of my students, let me know ahead of time," the professor said angrily then closed her phone.

The rest of the class went by in a blur. I tried to pay attention, honest I really did, but it was hopeless as recent events that had passed too quickly for me to filter, putting me in shock. I didn't even notice when Mr. Toque passed by me and brushed his hand across my lower back as he walked between me and the wall in the hall. I blushed when he turned around and smiled a knowing smile in my direction with a wink.

"What was that about?" Clyve asked and made me jump.

"Dear God, Clyve," I gasped, holding my chest half dramatically and half trying to slow my pounding heart, "Are you trying to give me a heart attack!"

Clyve giggled, which sounded exceptionally feminine when I wasn't looking at him, "Sorry," he chuckled as he put an arm around my shoulder, "Are you alright? You seem a little jumpy."

I tried to smile, attempting to fake that I was totally fine, "I'm great," I said over cheerfully.

"You suck at lying, Ann," Clyve smiled, I knew he wouldn't buy it, "What's up?"

Mr. Toque past by us at that moment and paused for a second, looking at me sideways, "It's nothing, honest," I smiled genuinely, putting my arm around his middle, "I'm just fine. Now, let's get going, I'm done with my classes for today and I want to go home."

Clyve got that look on his face and I knew I wasn't going to have a partner to walk with, "The thing is," Clyve said apologetically as he let his hand fall from my shoulder, putting it on the back of his head, "Gaunter and I were going out tonight, as in right after he gets out of class, and we were going to eat out."

Clyve blushed as he explained and I realized I had totally forgotten what today was. "Oh my God!" I exclaimed as I looked him and grabbed his arms, "I totally forgot! I'm so sorry! Happy anniversary!"

Clyve blushed harder and ducked his, "Thanks," he said shyly.

"Clyve!" Gaunter called from across the courtyard, waving his hand wildly toward us.

We both waved back as he ran across to us. When he reached us I jumped up to hug his massive body, "Happy anniversary, Gaunter!" I cried happily, let go, and dropped to the ground, "So, what do you guys have planned for tonight, some romantic getaway?"

Gaunter laughed when he saw Clyve's reddened face and pulled his lover into his arms, kissing him full on the mouth, "Yes," Gaunter smiled as he looked Clyve in the eyes, "I plan on taking up his whole night."

I blushed and turned away as Clyve pulled closer to Gaunter and kissed him, "Well," I said as I kept my eyes averted and saw Mr. Toque, "I better get going. I don't wanna take up all the time of your special night."

I turned around and they were only focused on each other. I chuckled to myself as I walked off holding my sketch book close to me. I had to make sure no one followed me before I could make my way to Master Dragun's. I gritted my teeth; he wasn't my master no matter how much he wanted to think he was. Just because I had some control over them, he thought he had every right to have complete control of me, I don't think so! I was the only one with power over me and it was gonna stay that way if I had anything to do with it. I was going to pay back my debt I owed him, and then I was going to have nothing to with those filthy undead creatures for as long as I lived.

I hung my head as guilt filled me up. It was my fault I owed him, I hated to admit it. If I hadn't been trying to prove something, my stupid pride wouldn't have gotten me into the hole I'm in now. Stupid pride, I chided myself, stupid me for listening to it. But I paid for it, if I hadn't tried to raise that body, just to prove that I could, I wouldn't have accidentally raised a vampire. Then I wouldn't have had to have called out for help with my curse and I wouldn't have wound up calling a (you guessed it) vampire to my rescue. Damn me and my pride.

I tripped over a rut in the side walk and came back to reality in time to realize that something was following me, and it wasn't human. I tried not to acknowledge that I had sensed them behind me, but I knew that I had given it away somehow. I tripped again and fell to the ground, my sketch book skirting across the concerted path way that caused the disruption of my equilibrium. I cried out as the palms of my hands skid across the hot, rough concert in an effort to stop my fall or at least to cushion it somewhat. Then my knees and right thigh made contact with the side walk as I rolled to my side to take the buff of the fall on my leg. I hurt like hell and I hissed loudly, trying to breathe away the sting that picked at my wounded hands.

"Hey, are you alright?" a male voice said as I sat on the side walk holding my hands.

"Yeah, I'm ok," I said through gritted teeth.

"You know," the man said with a smile in his voice, "You kinda suck at lying."

I chuckled, "Yeah, I get told that a lot," I informed him with a smile.

I watched him pass in front of me through my long hair as he went to retrieve my strewn possessions, "Wow," I heard his voice full of amazement, "This is really beautiful. Did you do all of these?"

I looked away from his feet and down to the side walk sheepishly, my face blushing again (I had been doing that way too much of late), "Yeah," I said more firmly then I thought I was capably at that moment, "I drew them. There things I see, in my dreams I mean."

"You have some pretty strange dreams," he laughed as he walked back to me and crouched down in front of me.

You don't know the half of it, I thought with a grimace, "Yeah, I know," I said as I stood and assessed the damage. My pants were pretty dirty (they had taken the blunt of the fall), my new tennis shoes were scuffed up a little, and my hand were scraped up pretty badly, with little pieces of pebble in them, "Yup, that hurts a lot," I said through my teeth as I brushed my hands against my thighs to remove the bulk of the tiny stones embedded in my flesh.

I looked up to say thank you to the strange man that had helped me but found that his attention was fixated on my sketch book. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't seem to place him in my mind. I became suddenly very worried, was there something in there that had somehow offended him? Wow, was I really worried how he felt about my art?

"How long have you known?" he asked with little to no emotion in his deep voice.

"What are you talking about?" I asked reaching for my sketch book, but he wouldn't release it.

"This picture," he turned the yellowed pages so that I could see which drawing he was so focused on, "When did you draw it?"

I looked at it, it was the free sketch I did in art, and the one Mr. Kismet liked so much. Then everything came into place.

The man I drew in the picture the one with storm gray eyes that held such a fierce emotion that I couldn't place, looked exactly like the man that now stood before me. I looked up from the picture to the man then back down to the picture and back up at him, it was impossible. I had never seen this guy in my life, yet here was a perfect replica of his features drawn in my sketch book.

I couldn't explain it as I stared at the art work, open mouthed like a fish drowning in air. I couldn't understand how it was possible, because it just wasn't. It couldn't possibly be possible (so says the girl that can raise and command the dead (which was also supposed to be impossible!))! I took my work from him and closed it, pulling close to my chest, "I drew it today, in class," I mumbled, not looking him in the eyes, (gray like the Arkansas sky in summer just before a big thunder storm), "We had a free day, but our work was still going to count for a grade, so I just free sketched."

He gave me an odd look, like nothing I was saying made any sense whatsoever so I sighed, "Free sketching, for me anyways, is when I completely shut off my mind and just let my hands move on their own accord. I wouldn't have even noticed what I had drawn this until my professor commented on it."

"I know what free sketching is, angel," the man said with a smile.

My face flashed up at him, shock in my eyes, a second or two before I realized that he wasn't using my name. But he had an odd look on his face as he looked off just to my left, reaching out to touch the air about six inches off my shoulder. I felt myself pale and my face become grave.

"What are you talking about?" I asked in a voice far too small to make me comfortable.

"I can see your wings," he whispered, "They're beautiful, red, like rose petals."

I started to shake, nervous at his closeness and observation, "If you'll excuse me," I said in such a little voice I didn't know if he could hear me at all, "I need to be going."

"What is your name, little Seraph," he whispered, his gray eyes meeting my dark green ones.

"You've guessed half of them already," I heard myself say barely above a whisper, "I can't tell you anymore, save that I am Angel. But everyone calls me Ann, because I'm nothing close to an angel."

"Angel," the man whispered, "I'll be seeing you, Angel Seraph."

I was so stunned after he walked off, never looking back at me, that it was only much later till I realized I hadn't gotten the strangers name until he was far out of sight. He was amazing, short blonde hair, storm gray eyes, tan-ish skin, broad shoulders, thick waist, strong legs; I couldn't believe my fate in this. And what was that crap about me being an angel and having rose red wings? I didn't understand so I stood there, staring at the man as he walked off into the haze of city. I didn't realize it at that moment, but he had me like a kid had lightning bug in a glass jar, captured and captivated.