Thanks so much for all of the reviews, comments, critiques, follows and favourites!
I really appreciate every single itty bitty indication that people have been reading this story and enjoying it. Seriously *tears up*…you guys make me so happy!
I hope you enjoy the following chapter.
HOWEVER, THIS IS IMPORANT:
I am obliged to mention that it contains some segments that are a little scarier and a little gorier than usual.
There are also some scenes of a vaguely sexual nature towards the end of the chapter.
I've checked extensively and there's nothing there that merits an "M" rating (yet) but I just feel better giving a warning in case there are those of you who would rather avoid those kinds of scenes.
Thanks a million again!
Seriously hope that you enjoy!
It was rather strange to her, all in all.
"Mummy?" a seven-year-old Cassidy would have asked her mother. "What was your mummy like? Do you remember her much?"
The woman smiled gently. "My mummy? I certainly do remember plenty of things about her. My favourite things about her. She had the longest, prettiest golden hair. I used to love brushing it and playing Rapunzel- like we do. She had the softest hands in the whole world too…oh, and her voice! When she sang, it was like the laughter of angels…"
Cassidy had always thought that when something was described as sounding like "the laughter of angels", that the sound would be mellifluous, clear, beautiful and almost divine to the ear of the beholder.
"The Angels are laughing at you."
However, the sound that met her ears at that very moment was nothing close to "divine." If anything, the grating shrieks sounded like they were being dragged from the gates of Hell.
The Archangel dragged her forward, pulling her chains and letting the leather manacles do their work.
Robbed of her sight, Cassidy was forced to blindly stumble after him, shaking with each step and chewing on her lower lip. Her palms were already slick with a cold sweat.
The other Weeping Angels continued to shriek with cold, cruel laughter.
She did not know how many of them stood in the corridor around her but it sounded as though there were hundreds of them.
Groups.
Swarms.
The horrible, screeching laughter echoed from the ceiling to the floor and left a stinging pulse in Cassidy's inner-ears. Every now and then she felt cold fingers graze her flesh- reaching out and grabbing at her dress, her hair, her skin.
She flinched away from the hands that prodded her, wanting to cry out but managing to stifle her fear to mere, strangled whimpers.
She silently vowed that she would not give them the satisfaction of hearing her scream.
She wanted to lift her hands to protect herself or at least to cover her ears but if she moved her arms in the slightest, Michael gave the chain a harsh tug, thus forcing her to keep her hands in front of her.
Every now and then, she would feel the sting of their claws, brushing past her like thorny brambles.
The other Angels were now acting on their own apparent hatred of her, scratching at her in contempt.
However, it was then that Michael abruptly pulled her forwards.
She tripped slightly, being forced into a run and suddenly being grabbed into his arms. His hands gripped her shoulders, twisting her around and pushing her forward. Shivers rippled along Cassidy's spine as her back was pressed uncomfortably against Michael's broad, partially bare chest.
He forced her to walk in front of him, his massive, hulking body craning over her almost protectively.
She swallowed as she felt cold lips touch the warm, soft shell of her ear.
"Walk in my shadow," he hissed, his command direct and his breath icy as it skimmed her face. "I cannot directly deny the other Angels their amusement but as always, I wish for you to remain unspoiled."
Cassidy shivered but did not dare breathe a word.
Although she couldn't remember being pulled in any direction but forwards, fear had disorientated her and at that moment, she had no idea where Michael was taking her.
After a few more forcibly guided steps, she felt a swift rush of air in front of her face and a low, whirring that seemed to send a vibration through the floor in a steady rhythmic pulse.
"The elevator," she thought. "I must be standing in front of the elevator."
Her guess was confirmed when she was suddenly shoved forward from the lower back. She stumbled on to hollow floor of the elevator and the metal carriage sagged with the weight of its two new occupants.
As the elevator started to descend, Cassidy felt her once-beloved living statue's hands on her shoulders once more, the monster's fingers starting to trail downward to her forearms.
His palm suddenly pressed over the faded, still-aching ghosts of the bruises that he had given him before. His actions were suddenly more possessive than protective and Cassidy did not even begin to tease herself with the notion that he cared for her well-being.
To him, she was clearly little more than a play-thing that he did not want anybody else to tarnish.
"You are doing well so far, little human," the Angel said coldly, hissing in her ear. "Just remember to follow my every order and the poor, vulnerable infant human will remain in one piece."
Cassidy slowly nodded, sucking a deep breath in between her teeth.
She had never felt such a nauseating combination of hatred, terror and helplessness.
The elevator finally ground to a stop and it wasn't long before Michael was dragging her after him once more. He pulled her in his wake, dragging her left and right.
Every now and then, her elbow would bump against the corner of a wall or she would trip over a fold in the carpet beneath her feet. At each display of blind clumsiness, her captor would let out a low, rumbling laugh accompanied by a cruel remark about the human race and their flaws.
After what felt like an eternity of walking in forced darkness, Michael suddenly pushed against her chest- roughly signalling for her to stop in place.
"Remain here. Do not think of moving," he told her. "For if you do, I shall catch you. I shall tie you and then I shall force you to watch as I flay the infant with my claws. Do you understand?"
Again, she only nodded.
She felt her metal tether fall slack upon the floor as Michael moved away.
Cassidy wondered where she was.
She was definitely still somewhere on the ground floor of the hotel but there were no tangible clues to tell her precisely where he had taken her, aside from the feel of the carpet beneath her feet.
There was nothing in the way of auditory clues either.
In the absence of the Angels' laughter and the terrible screaming from earlier, all that met her ears was a thick, heavy silence.
For a moment, as she strained to hear something- anything- Cassidy could have sworn that she could hear her own frightened heartbeat, frantically pounding in her chest.
She suddenly became very aware of her own breathing; each ragged inhalation was both shaky and strangled.
"What is he going to do to me?"
All too soon, the chain stretched once more, yanking her forwards.
Her feet left the soft carpet and were met by a hard, tiled floor. Each step echoed loudly as she went, indicating a room of colossal proportions.
Cassidy's bit down hard on the inner part of her mouth, her fingernails digging into her palms and her knuckles slowly turning milky.
Although she could not see them, she could feel a hundred pairs of eyes upon her.
The collective gaze of a scrutinizing crowd burning into her skin
The spectre of a memory drifted through her mind: the night that she had given her speech on the night of Michael's official presentation.
She had felt the audience's gaze on her on that night too but there was no way that the anxiety had been this excruciating.
Suddenly the constant tugging on the chains ceased completely.
"Halt there," she heard Michael growl and instantly, Cassidy was rooted to the spot. She pressed her dry lips together, slowly bringing her bound hands to clasp in front of her chest.
Afraid to breathe, she waited for something to happen to her.
She waited for knuckles…claws…teeth…
"Welcome to the ballroom, Cassidy," Michael boomed, his deep voice resounding in the vastness of the room. "The Angels are delighted to finally receive a formal audience with you. You are standing where we all can see you right now. Is she not an exemplar of her species, my sisters?"
Cassidy flinched at the sudden atrocious shriek of monstrous "laughter", accentuated by the baritone Michael's own pseudo-human chuckle.
"Well then!" the beast continued, his voice seeming to move as he spoke. "Why do you not properly greet your superior masters of house, dear Cassidy? Bow for your master."
The chained human girl hesitated for a moment, a cold sweat starting to surface in beads on her forehead before slowly and hesitantly complying with the order.
She didn't feel particularly willing to expose the back of her neck to a vicious group of sociopathic statues but she feared the consequences of not complying.
Assuming that the Angels were right in front of her, Cassidy bent at the waist in a quick but low bow.
"Do you not all see how well trained she is?" the Weeping Archangel mockingly proclaimed. "How do we all feel about another demonstration? Yes? Good. Cassidy? Kneel down."
A dog.
He was forcing her to perform tricks like a dog.
She swallowed back against her sorely dry throat, her eyes squeezing a little behind the folds of the blindfold as she gingerly kneeled upon the cold tiles.
"Such a good girl!" he praised mockingly, almost drowned out by a tide of the Angels' laughter. "Cassidy! You do look so tristful and frightened. I order you to smile. Show just how happy you are to be here."
The delicate skin beneath her eyes twitching and spasming, Cassidy forced herself to smile widely.
Smile even when you don't feel like it- you'll feel much better!
Cassidy suddenly questioned the wisdom in that old saying.
Clearly the great philosopher who had formulated that piece of advice had never been forced to perform humiliating little commands, chained at the wrists, barely dressed, blindfolded and in front of a crowd of murderous alien life-forms.
"Is my little Cassidy not even prettier when she is smiling?" Michael laughed, waiting for the frightening, grating laughter to subside before giving a new order. "Now that you are content, human, you may stand up once more. Come now, on your feet."
Without delay, Cassidy stood back up once more, her breathing becoming dangerously shallow.
These trivial little dog-show tricks had to be accumulating towards something horrific.
"Now, do you not want to thank your superiors for allowing you stay here?" the Archangel questioned his captive.
She swallowed, opening her mouth but closing it again- unsure of how to respond.
"Speak. Now," he snarled sharply. "You have a tongue and vocal chords, do you not? Can you not demonstrate your command over them? Or would you prefer I tear them from your jaws to show that they are, in fact, in working order?"
"Th-thank you!" Cassidy half-shouted, stumbling over her words as fear slurred her speech. "Thank y-you f-for letting me stay here."
The Angels laughed again and Michael, himself, was still in the throes of mirth when he put the question to her: "Cassidy, Angel Ariel would like to know if you are enjoying your stay here?"
The human girl nodded quickly but found herself being barked at.
"Speak, human!"
"Y-Yes! Yes! I am enjoying my stay h-here! It's…it's all really l-lovely…"
She swallowed back, desperately wanting to cover her ears in the wake of the Angels' terrible, mocking laughter.
But before she could even attempt to move her hands, the chain at her feet suddenly pulled tight again, forcing her to run to Michael's side once more.
"There is a good, pleasant little human," the Archangel simpered, dragging her forwards until she forcibly crashed against him. He placed a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to sit down on the cold, glossy floor. "There now. You may sit here at my side."
She felt Michael sink down into some kind of chair beside her.
One of his large hands came to cup her cheek before pushing her head down to rest in his lap. The once-stone folds of his toga felt bizarrely soft against her face but Cassidy refused to let herself enjoy it.
It wasn't that she could.
Her stomach hurt, her head was heavy and her limbs were aching.
When he started to stroke her face, his knuckles brushing against her cheek and his clawed fingers combing through her hair, her heartbeat started to increase again.
Her thoughts wandered upstairs, back to Abbie Drake.
What would become of the little girl?
Even if Michael did keep his word to her and didn't kill the child- Abbie was still trapped there in that hotel. How on earth would Cassidy ever manage to free her?
So far, she had failed in every attempt to free herself.
She could hardly play the role of heroine when she, herself, was still a victim.
"That poor little girl wouldn't even be in this mess if it weren't for me," Cassidy thought, tears prickling at the corners of her blind-sighted eyes. She sniffed. "No. No crying. Not in front of these monsters. Don't give them the satisfaction of seeing you cry…"
Cassidy desperately started to console herself, taking a long, deep breath and trying to find something positive to cling on to.
Positive thoughts had, long ago, become her single, safe harbour in the vicious storm of fear and pain in which she was now moored against her will.
"At least she's here, where I can look after her. Her room is near mine and although we're both prisoners here, at least that gives me the opportunity to make sure nothing bad happens to her. Maybe if I'm good for this monster, he'll let me see her every day," she thought. Cassidy turned her head against Michael's broad leg, allowing him more access to her face and neck. "Stan can look after her during the day and take her out into the city to make sure that she gets fed well….or maybe the doctor really will come to save us both…maybe…"
Cassidy was jerked from her thought process by the sound of human voices in the ballroom. She could hear shouts, cursing, sobbing and the same horrible screaming as before.
She lifted her head slightly, seeking to know where the other humans in the room were, but Michael roughly pushed her head back down upon his leg.
"Stay where you are, little female," he snarled. "Their fate is of no concern to you."
"I…I just want to know...who they are…," Cassidy told her captor slowly, choosing her words with great care. "Are they residents in this building…m-master?"
Her use of his self-given title seemed to appease him and after a few seconds, to her own surprise, she felt the blindfold loosen around her eyes. Michael removed the blindfold completely and instantly seized the back of her head, his hands entangling in her hair to ensure that she couldn't move her head.
"Take a look at your surroundings, pet. I suppose it is only fair that I allow you to enjoy this event as much as I intend to."
For the first time, Cassidy could see where she had been taken.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust for the room was dark- only barely lit by a few flickering yellow lamps welded to the walls.
Without the dust and cobwebs of negligence, the ballroom would have been a magnificent sight to behold. The ceilings tapered up into a stunning dome, each panel lined by gold and adorned by a Renaissance-esque mural.
There was a crystalline chandelier towards the back of the room, lying cracked and forgotten upon the black and white panel floors. A collection of circular tables, draped in white table cloths had been set up and pushed back against the far wall. Gilded chairs were scattered in the gaps between the tables.
Michael, himself, was seated upon one of them, in the centre of all of the tables.
Cassidy's breath stilled in her throat when she saw the other Angels.
There had to be just one hundred near-identical seraphs of stone standing and sitting in the room. Some of them were staring at her with their blank, sightless eyes and mixed expressions of blatant curiosity and intense revulsion.
However, despite the fading beauty and vastness of the dilapidated hotel ballroom and the fearsome gaze of the Angels, Cassidy's eyes were only locked on one thing.
Against one of the far walls of the room were a crowd of terrified looking people.
The origin of the screaming.
The people were of all ages- teenagers, elderly people, children.
They had all been backed against the wall and were being fenced in by a line of Weeping Angels, each poised with teeth and claws bared for an attack.
Cassidy's eyes widened, her hands starting quiver, causing her slackened chains to rattle against the ground.
"Wh-…what are they here for…master?"
With her head held forward, she could not see Michael as he lightly ran a cold finger down her neck.
"Just wait," he told her smoothly. "Our show is about to start."
The sun was setting- the huge amber orb now hanging limply against a cloudy vermillion sky and threatening to drop beneath the horizon line.
Accompanied by his three latest partners in crime, the doctor was frantically running through the streets of 1920s Los Angeles.
Three blocks earlier, the Time Lord had decided to stop taking shouted directions from Stan and instead, insisted that the American run ahead and lead the pack instead
(Something that Clara had pointed out would have sped them up immensely if they had decided to do it "seventeen streets ago!").
"So," Stan shouted over his shoulder. "You're all time travellers then?!"
"Technically but with different degrees!" the doctor hollered back, gesturing to the two heavily panting young people who currently flanked him. "I've been time hopping pretty much my entire life. Clara here has been my lovely assistant for the past year or so and Eddie is quite the newbie!"
"I only started this morning," Edmund added. "Can't say time-travel is living up to its fun and glamorous reputation yet."
Clara shrugged. "Don't trust science-fiction movies!"
"Y'know, it's nothin' short of crazy!" Stan called out, matter-of-factly as he took another sharp left turn, (almost causing the entire group to slip into a sideways skid on the pavement). "One minute I'm in on a farm in North Cali! The next I'm standing on a street in Los Angeles, like thirty years before I was ever born and surrounded by-…"
"Stan, my man!" the doctor interjected, his knees in the air as he ran. "Not that I wouldn't love to have this conversation some time! With tea! Biscuits! Scones! And bananas! Lots of bananas! The whole job! But at the moment, we have higher priorities!" He grabbed him by the shoulder. "Can you tell me some things about the hotel we're headed to?"
"Yeah, sure. I'll tell you everything I can!" the prisoner responded, rounding another corners and slowing down slightly to ensure that he was still in earshot of the doctor. "What do you wanna know?"
"How many floors are there in the hotel?" the doctor questioned, his arms swinging at right angles.
"There are about ten, I'd say!" Stan replied. "At least ten is the highest floor that I've ever seen and the building's about ten stories from the front anyhow!"
"Ten? Ten. Alright, ten is doable. Is there any kind of stairwell on the outside of the building? Or a set of fire-escape stairs?"
"There's a few flights of serving stairs that run through the whole building…and the elevator…"
"Right, right. I see…what about Cassidy's room? You said that it's right next to yours? What floor are you both on?"
"The fourth," Stan answered, slowing down to a walk as they approached the final stretch before the water-front. "Almost there, now. Hey doctor, do you mind if I ask you a question? Getting into the hotel is all well and good but how are we gonna take the Angels down? How do you plan on killing the Angels?"
"You cannot just "kill" an Angel in the conventional sense," the doctor explained, shoving his hands into his pockets. "We have to poison their feeding grounds."
"Ok, so how are we going to do that, exactly?" Edmund chimed in, jogging forwards and falling into step behind the doctor and Stan.
"I was getting to that! We have to create a paradox," the doctor went on. "A person can't die twice in one night. Therefore, if we remove a newly deceased individual from their continuous food chain, a paradox will be created and the feeding ground will be contaminated."
"So we're just going to kill someone in order to further this plan?" Clara suddenly interrupted. "Am I permitted to question the morality of this scheme of yours, doctor?"
The doctor exhaled. "I told you, I've dealt with the Angels before. With this exact situation before, in fact. Provided that all goes to plan, the given individual will not die. If a paradox is created, the entire hotel will cease to exist and all of its residents will return to their individual time-streams as if they were never abducted. The Angels, however, will be poisoned by the disrupted food chain and starve themselves right out of existence…"
Edmund's eyes widened briefly and he groaned, massaging his temples. "Alright, considering my brain is boggled enough from this plan, I know I'm going to regret asking this but does that mean that Cassidy and I will go back to London in 2012 as if none of this living statue lark ever happened?"
The doctor frowned deeply, worry lines etched into his forehead as he sighed. "No, I'm afraid that your situation is a little bit more complicate and a lot more delicate than that. Cassidy's abductor will hopefully die in the paradox but regardless, you and Miss Albright will probably remember all of this for the rest of your lives…"
Before Edmund could ask another question, the doctor spoke again- this time, to Stan.
"We need to locate someone who has died tonight. Their older self anyway. Any idea where we might find one?"
"The room opposite Cassidy's," Stan replied after a moment of thought. "It was cleared out when I left the hotel today and the door was ajar. Usually that means the Angels are gonna put somebody new in there. We could try that door."
The doctor nodded, muttering and speaking more to himself than anyone else. "…we get in, get our willing volunteer, get Cassidy, cause the paradox, get to the TARDIS, ship out and go home…simple, right? Simple in theory anyway…."
"This is it…here," Stan announced, gesturing forward and soon enough, the foursome came upon the towering Summer Bank Hotel. The young man came to a halt a few paces away from the hotel, the other three following suit.
The doctor looked up at the building, his eyes travelling from the front steps to the very highest point of the roof.
"Round two," he murmured under his breath. "We may have just barely won last time but not this time…"
Clara looked at him sideways, her eyebrows arching slightly with worry.
She knew that the doctor had a similar experience with the Weeping Angels before.
An experience in which two of his very dear friends had been taken from him.
Sure that the ordeal had given him an idea of how to succeed in their mission to save Cassidy but Clara was privately concerned about the psychological toll that it might take on her dear, renegade Time Lord.
"Are you alright?" she began to say, reaching out a little to touch his arm in comfort.
"I'm fine. Just fine. Fine and dandy," the doctor said quickly, side-stepping her advance and walking right up to the foot of the steps. "That's odd…"
"What is it? What have you noticed now?" Clara went on to ask, ignoring the admittedly sinking feeling in her stomach as she followed his gaze.
"No guards. There are no guards out here," the doctor stated, his eyes narrowing. "Why aren't there any guards on patrol? Winter's Quay had tons standing around the doors and windows so why not put any guards on patrol here?"
"The tournament," Stan grunted, his brow furrowing. "It's like this every month. Usually all of the Angels wanna attend so their presence is pretty light." He rolled his eyes. "Don't mean that they won't find you the next morning if you've tried to run, though."
The doctor whipped his head around to stare at Stan, knitting his brows and looking confused.
"Tournament? Tournament? What tournament?"
Some of the people were in complete hysterics now, most of them crying, clinging to another unfortunate individual or simply shaking with fear where they stood.
Some of them were looking at Cassidy, shouting over at her for assistance- begging for her to help them.
Only once had she tried to call back to them but Michael had growled her into silence.
He was stone now, due to the effects of the quantum lock but the brute's hand was still firmly on her head, keeping the side of her head pressed against the cold, stone of his thigh.
She could only watch her fellow prisoners in vain.
She was as helpless as they were.
Her heart leapt into her mouth when the lights in the ballroom suddenly switched off completely, plunging the room into complete darkness for a few seconds.
When the lights turned back on again, each of the Weeping Angels who had once served as a barrier to fence the people in, now each had a human locked in their arms.
There were about twenty in total, all of them restrained by an Angel while the remainder of the group watched from behind in terrified anticipation.
Cassidy noticed that the double doors at the far end of the ballroom had been opened, looking out on to the street.
Her eyes trailed along the row of people once more as she tried to build a mental picture of the situation. The people were being lined up, facing the open doors.
Facing escape.
Facing freedom.
Were they going to be raced, perhaps?
Most of the Angels were now standing, craning their necks with interest.
"M-Master?" Cassidy asked quietly, her voice almost a whisper as she spoke to the Angel that held her. "What is about to h-happen? Is it a race?"
"In some ways. This is the first wave," Michael began to explain, speaking as casually though he were an adult explaining the rules of football to a child. "Each wave has about twenty in it. The lights will go out and the humans will run towards the doors. The Angels will chase them. Any human who can evade the Angels and make it outside, wins their freedom…"
She swallowed, feeling ill as her fingertips began to turn cold. "What about the ones who don't outrun the Angels?"
Michael laughed cruelly. "Are you really so naïve that you must ask, little human?"
Cassidy's eyes widened as she stared at the row of trembling people- old and young alike- who were about to run.
The prisoners who were being forced to gamble with lives.
"And…h-how many have won their freedom so far?"
Michael gave another low, cynical, unkind chuckle before replying.
"None."
The lights went out.
The ballroom was only cast into a blackness for a few seconds but in those few seconds, what Cassidy heard was enough to bring bile into her mouth and set blood pounding in her ears.
An overture of screams gradually faded into a ripple of sickening crackles before complete silence settled into the room once more.
When the lights came back up again, Cassidy had to stuff her fist into her mouth to prevent herself from either being sick on the ground in front of her or from screaming outright.
"Ah," Michael commented. "No winners this time. I cannot say that I am surprised."
Dead.
They were all dead.
All twenty of the running humans were now thrown upon the ground like ragdolls, their limbs at odd angles and blood slowly seeping from their necks and heads.
The remaining runners were now screaming openly, having been given a graphic preview of their fate.
The lights flickered off again and another twenty were caught by the Angels and lined up to run.
It was then that Cassidy noticed the stone smirks on the faces of the Angels sitting and standing all around her.
"Some of us place wagers on different humans, regarding how far they will get," Michael was saying. "The younger ones tend to be quite fast…though the middle-aged males have surprised us on occasion…"
"But wh-why?" Cassidy asked, tears threatening to spill her eyes once more. "Why are they doing this to them?"
Michael paused for a moment before answering in a voice that was far too light and airy a medium for the message it relayed.
"For fun, of course."
This malevolent display of mass murder was nothing more than a social gathering to the Angels.
If any part of Cassidy had been willing to take pity on the Weeping Angels for the lonely existence that had been forced upon them by their biology: that part of her had been well and truly extinguished.
Her eyes fell upon the faces of those doomed to die and her heart-rate spiked when she noticed a little boy among them.
The frail-looking, black haired little boy was crying, calling out for his mother and held around the neck by the merciless stone arms of an Angel.
His small, rounded features were creased with fear and anxiety as his hands clawed at the Angel's arm.
He looked no older than seven or eight.
No.
No.
No.
She could not just lay there and allow him to be killed.
She had to do something.
Anything.
"Not the little boy!" Cassidy suddenly said aloud, struggling under Michael's stone grip.
"What did you say, human slave?" Michael growled down at her, annoyed that she had apparently spoken out of turn.
Cassidy lowered her voice. "Th-that child…please…." She sniffed, hating every fibre of her own being as she lifted a hand to place upon Michael's leg. "I…I…don't want to see the little boy die, master." She silently decided that if she were going to try to appease Michael into letting her see Abbie, she would have to see how easily he could be convinced. "P-Please…couldn't you convince the other Angels to let him go, master? He's j-just…just so young…please?" She lifted her hand and started to gently stroke the stone beneath her cheek, feeling the increasing urge to be sick as she cuddled up to the monstrous living statue.
Michael was silent for a few moments, seemingly considering his prisoner's pleas before speaking again.
"Hm…how about I make you a deal, my Cassidy?"
Cassidy bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut before responding. "What kind of deal…master?"
Michael suddenly spoke aloud, addressing the entire room.
"My little Cassidy would like to join in the game! She wishes to save the life of the third human from the left side. She wagers that she can outrun an Angel…"
As the Angels broke into high-pitched, shrieks of laughter and the humans whispered and whimpered amongst themselves, Cassidy's eyes snapped open.
What was he setting her up for?
"Hear, hear, little human. You shall have your chance. You and the boy will be set to run on the next turn. If you reach him before an Angel does, he will be set free…does this sound like a fair deal?"
Cassidy swallowed.
No, it was certainly not a fair deal.
She knew that the Angels moved at a breakneck speed when they were not being watched. How could she ever hope to outrun a creature that could move in metres in the single blink of an eye?
Hopelessness washed over her but when she looked into the panicked, staring eyes of the little boy, she knew that she couldn't leave him.
If there was any chance of saving him- she had to take it.
She had to try.
"Yes," Cassidy said finally. "That…that sounds like a fair deal to me."
The lights briefly flickered and she was roughly pushed to her feet.
The lights flickered again and the chains that had once bound her wrists fell to the floor.
Michael was now standing beside her, leering down at her with a malign smirk on his thin lips.
"Then take your place, Cassidy Albright. Go and stand beside the boy."
Her fellow prisoners watched her as she walked, still whispering amongst themselves- confused as to what her entitled her to being treated as a lap-dog while they were being treated as cattle.
Although she could not hear them and although most of them were bound in stone, Cassidy would have been willing to bet her life that the other Angels were whispering amongst themselves as they watched her too.
With a slight quiver in her step, she came to stand next to the Angel that held the boy.
Looking sideways, she could see the unforgiving look of ferality in the Angel's eyes.
No empathy. No concern. No feeling, whatsoever.
The other Angels, still holding their prisoners tightly, seemed to have moved back, to allow for her to run alone and to see the spectacle that was about to take place.
The little boy was quivering uncontrollably, his nose and eyes streaming.
"Please h-help me, miss!" he sobbed, pleading with her. "P-Please d-don't let'em put me into the dark, miss! I don't wanna go into the dark…"
"Just run as fast as you can," she told him, taking deep breaths as she prepared herself. "Don't worry. I'll catch you first. I promise."
"P-Please, miss! P-P-Please…!"
"Are you ready, Cassidy?" Michael's voice boomed from the end of the ballroom.
Cassidy stole one last glance down at the little boy before nodding. "Yes, I am."
"Well then…begin…"
The lights went out and Cassidy broke immediately broke into a run.
She could not see the little boy but she could hear his fast footsteps…his whimpers…his frightened breathing…
She stretched out her hands and felt elation rise in her chest- an unspeakable joy- as her fingertips found and latched on to a pair of small, rounded shoulders.
She had done it.
She had saved him.
Cassidy laughed in spite of her fear, overcome with relief as she grabbed the child into her arms and held him close.
"Oh thank God," she breathed. "Thank God. It's alright…it's alright…I've got you now. I've got y-…"
However, when light returned to the room, almost falling upon her in a yellow spotlight, realisation fell upon her a vat of ice-cold water.
The little boy was slumped in her arms, his head lolling to one side, his mouth half-open and his wide, frightened eyes glazed-over and staring.
And from his hairline trickled a single, glistening, crimson vein of blood.
She had not saved him.
Cassidy shrieked, dropping the boy to the ground in shock pure shock.
Her body turned rigid and vomit surged into her mouth.
Swallowing back, her wretching turned to strangled sobs and tears poured freely down her face.
The Angels were laughing at her again just as the remaining humans were wailing but she could only barely hear any of them now.
The only thing that she could hear was her own breathing- each breath more struggling and laboured than the one before.
She fell to her knees, desperately wiping at her eyes as she cried.
"I…I'm sorry," she managed to choke out. "I'm so…so…sorry!"
The child lay before her like a broken mannequin- completely lifeless save for the frozen fear in his still-open eyes. She wanted to reach out to close them but she could not bring herself to lay a hand on the boy's skin.
Her fingers shaking and her entire body wrenched by revulsion, she only managed to reach out to touch the bare tips of the young boy's soft, ebony-coloured hair.
"I'm…s-sorry…I tried…I really tried…Oh God, I'm sorry…!"
"Oh dear. It would appear that you have failed. Hard luck."
When she finally managed to take her eyes from the dead child, murdered mere seconds before she had pulled him into the safety of her arms, she looked up to see Michael standing over her.
The Archangel was glowering down at her, smiling eerily, his eyes locked on her and his arms folded almost tauntingly.
Glacial fear turned to white-hot rage and Cassidy's shoulders began to heave with each breath, her teeth clenching in her mouth.
"You can try again, if you would like. The Angels found your attempt to be most entertaining and there are plenty of other children in this group that have not run yet…"
"You MONSTER!" Cassidy suddenly screamed, standing up and staring right up into Michael's face. "You absolute beast! You sadist! You bastard! You're evil! Nothing but EVIL!"
Her temper had been burned to its wick's end and her hatred now poured straight from her lips, completely unbridled.
Her eyes, unblinking.
Michael was silent for a moment and the Angels' laughter had ceased completely.
"Hold your tongue, human," he said finally, his voice suddenly adopting a threatening quiver despite his frighteningly calm tone. "You know that you should not speak to your superiors in such a way. I am your master, pathetic human. Learn to accept your fear of me."
Cassidy stared up at the creature of stone in complete defiance, her fists clenched as she shouted. "You are not my superior! No fucking murderous Angel is my superior! You are all cowards. Every single one of you! You're all cowards! Psychotic murdering cowards who do nothing but torture other living creatures for fun! And you! You are not my master! You do not own me! I hate you! I despise you! And I am NOT afraid of you!"
She looked up into the face of the Angel and in the few silent seconds before she blinked, Cassidy Albright genuinely felt no fear when standing in the shadow of her captor.
In hindsight, Michael would begrudgingly admire how long his pet lasted before she blinked.
In that single drop of two eyelids, Cassidy felt something large and heavy connect with the side of her face.
Then as she sank to the floor, her body giving out beneath her, the entire ballroom was consumed by darkness.
Fading…
Fading…
Gone.
"Right…follow my lead," the doctor hissed as he and his trio of companions slipped around the dust-coated front desk of the Summer Bank's reception area. "We are about to face the most malevolent, most powerful and quite possibly the most feared being that evolution has ever spat out into the universe. Keep your voices down. Listen to my every order and for the love of the Oods, if you see one, do not even blink." He whipped around to look at them, wringing his hands to accentuate his point. "If we are spotted, we will have no hope of outrunning them, we will have no hope of ambushing them and we certainly will have no way to kill any of them…"
"So what exactly do we have on our side?" Clara felt the sudden need to ask, looking around the darkened lobby. "Please tell me that this whole plan isn't hinging on your skills of improvisation."
"What we have on our side, dear Clara," the doctor replied, sidling up to a grime-caked mirror, hanging on the wall by the reception and absent-mindedly starting to fix his hair. "Is the ever-lasting power of knowledge…" He reached forward and suddenly lifted the mirror from the wall, thrusting it into Edmund's arms and causing him to stumble.
"Wh-at's this thing for?" the young man whispered between coughs, only barely managing to keep himself from falling over.
"Oh, Eddie. Silly Eddie," the doctor murmured, now rifling through the pockets of his trench coat. "Have you been listening to nothing that I've told you so far? The Angels turn to stone when they are in the direct sight of any other living being…even their own kind…"
"So putting them in front of a mirror," Edmund went on, his eyes widening in realisation as he heaved the mirror up against his chest. "Would be like freezing them permanently…"
"Now, you're getting it," the Time Lord responded, taking three plastic hand-mirrors from his pockets, handing one to Stan and the other to Clara. "Keep those on hand. Use them to look around corners. We're not taking any chances here." He rummaged in his pockets again before fumbling with the inner-seams of the coat. "We've also got one other trump card…where did I put them? For the love of…aha! Here."
From his pockets, the doctor gradually produced a set of clunky looking torches- all about the size of a human hand and all painted a different colour.
"What in the high hell are those?" asked Stan curiously, cocking an eyebrow and leaning forward to inspect the gaudy-looking gadgets.
"Kinaesthetic torches," the doctor proclaimed. "We know that the Angels can drain the energy from any electrical objects, making regular torches and electrical systems redundant. However, these are not battery powered…" He gave the blue one a vigorous squeezing, repeatedly pressing down on one of its protruded sides. The torch immediately flashed to life, casting its whitish glow down at the floor. "See? Powered by kinaesthetic energy. That is to say, it's powered manually. No batteries. Nothing nuclear. Just keep squeezing it and it lights up."
Clara couldn't help but smile, shaking her head. "Brilliant. As always."
The doctor shrugged, throwing her a smirk that was peppered with false modesty. "I like to be prepared." He looked to the two men. "I've got seven of them. All in different colours. Pick any one that you like…ah, but not the red one!"
Edmund flinched a little, warily retracting his hand from his initial, very-scarlet selection. "Why not the red one?"
"Because," the doctor said with a slight pout. "The red one is my favourite. I call dibs on it. Look, there is no time for a squabble over colours. You can have the blue one." He continued to narrate his actions as he assigned the torches to their owners. "Stan can have the green one and Clara can have the pretty pink one. Right, now that we're all ready…let's get moving…First priority: get Cassidy." He looked to the team's American recruit. "Stan, you said there was an elevator? Can you take us to it?"
The black haired man nodded, starting to walk towards a nearby alcove in the wall. "Yeah sure, it's right over he-.." Stan's eyes widened and he immediately backtracked, turning on heel to face his comrades. "There's an Angel standing in front of the elevator."
The doctor elbowed his way to the edge of the wall, using his hand mirror to peer around the corner, his eyes immediately narrowing at the sight of the familiar yet unwelcome monster. The Weeping Angel stood, solitary, its hands covering its eyes.
Apparently hidden to the world but always watching.
"I see it…"
"Bloody Hell…and I thought that one at the museum was creepy-looking." Edmund had craned his neck to take a gawk at the creature in the reflection. "I thought you said there'd be none of those statues guarding the place tonight because they're all at that tournament thing."
Stan rolled his eyes, a trifle annoyed. "I said that they all usually wanna go to the tournament, that doesn't mean they're all gonna go."
Clara looked down at the reflection, her eyes locked firmly on to the living statue. "So, that statue comes to life the moment that no one's looking at it?" She shuddered. "A living statue…"
She looked up at the doctor, noticing that his face had suddenly changed.
Despite the seriousness upon his lips and the concerned tautness of his jaw, the Time Lord usually had a glint of curiosity in his eyes or the optimistic crease of a smile line, slowly running from the rise of mouth to the base of his nose.
These miniscule but all-too-vital little features often served as a testimony for Clara that their mission was not in vain.
However now, the doctor's face had contorted completely- masked over by a kind of hatred that almost frightened her to look at.
She had never seen the doctor look upon another being with that kind of absolute loathing.
"How are we going to get past it?" Clara asked him, slowly. "What are we going to do now?"
"We run," he responded simply. "We run to the elevator. We keep looking at it for as long as we can. We get into the elevator. We go." He rounded on Stan and Edmund. "As soon as that thing sees us- it will sound the alarm. As soon as we walk out there, we must be quick, we must be fluid, no indecisions whatsoever." He pulled out his hand mirror. "Right, here we go. No dress rehearsals and no sound checks; it's show time."
The doctor immediately bolted out, holding up his mirror- Clara, Stan and Edmund in his wake and following suit.
Bound by its quantum lock, the Angel did not move.
"Keeping looking. Keep looking. Keep looking," the doctor chanted as they ran.
Narrowly avoiding brushing against its stone plumage, the four of them darted around the guarding Angel in order to access the iron grill of the elevator.
"Can you operate this and get us to the fourth floor, Stan?"
"Yeah, sure can."
"Quickly, quickly…It's getting hard to keep my eyes open," Edmund said through gritted-teeth, quivering as he stared at the back of the Angels' head.
"That's what the mirror's for!" Clara reminded him. "All you have to do is hold it up!"
"My arm is shaking too much to hold the bloody thing steady!" the archaeologist responded, his voice heavy with nerves.
Thankfully, the elevator whirred and jingled to life mere seconds later and the four of them stumbled into the compartment.
It wasn't long before they were running along the carpeted hallway of the fourth floor.
"Which is Cassidy's room, Edmund? Which is it?"
"Uh, this one here. Right next to mine!" the young man told him, tapping the door.
"Ah, Miss C. Albright!" the doctor read aloud from the name-plate, clapping his hands with glee. "Miss C. Albright, help is here! Ha-ha! This is perfect! Perfect!"
The doctor lifted his sonic screw-driver to the chained and bolted latch, letting the metal links fall to the floor before all but kicking the door in and rushing into the room.
"Cassidy! Ah! Cassidy Albright…!" the doctor paused for a moment, his arms outstretched and his mouth slowly closing. "…is not here. Cassidy Albright is not here."
"She's not there!? What do you mean she's not there!?" Stan repeated, immediately following him into the bedroom and looking around.
"I mean exactly what I said, Mr Stanley P. Quinn and that is that Cassidy Albright is not in her room," the doctor said quickly, his eyes wide as he looked downwards, starting to pace into the hall. "She's not here. So where is she?"
Clara shared the same confused expression as the other three men and her slightly wavering voice betrayed her identical panic.
"That…that Angel. Could he have taken her somewhere? Could he had known that we were coming?"
Edmund shook his head, gripping the sides of the mirror he held with vice-like tenure. "But where would he have taken her?"
"Maybe to the tournament," Stan said slowly, terrible realisation dawning over his features. "Maybe he wants to put her into the tournament to run her with the other captives here…"
"No, no, no," the doctor groaned, clawing at his hair and shaking his head with frustration. "No, he doesn't want to kill her! He wouldn't have taken her anywhere with the intention of murdering her…and even if we do go down to that tournament and she's not there, we'd just be wasting time and that's only what he wants…Ugh!"
Clara grabbed the doctor's sleeve, trying to calm him down.
"Relax, doctor. Think for a second. There's no point in panicking. We're already wasting time and for Cassidy's sake, you'd better start resort to your signature method of pulling plans out of thin air…"
"Signature?" the doctor echoed. "Signature? Signature!" A grin suddenly burst out across his features and he seized Clara by the shoulders. "Cassidy's time signature! I can still track it if she's in the building! Clara Oswin Oswald, you are an absolute genius! A beauty and a genius to boot!" Without a second thought and before his rather stunned companion could reply, he planted a kiss straight on to her lips.
Clara stumbled back slightly, her face turning rather pink as the doctor turned and promptly began to run his sonic screwdriver around the frame of Cassidy's door.
"I…y-you're welcome."
Before anyone could pass any further comment on what had just come to pass, a tiny voice pierced the air, accompanied by the percussion of a little hand knocking on a door and promptly caused everyone to jump.
"Hello!? Helloooo!?" the little voice squeaked from behind a nearby door, two loud knocks following.
The doctor did not stop tracing the door with the screwdriver but looked in the direction of the noise, arching an eyebrow. "…who's there?"
"Abbie!" the impish voice answered.
The doctor tilted his head. "Abbie who?"
"Abbie Drake?!" Edmund suddenly exclaimed, almost dropping the mirror.
"You've heard that joke before then, huh?" the doctor commented, turning back to the door.
"Joke? That's not a joke," Edmund said, propping the mirror against the wall and pressing his ear to the door across from Cassidy's. "That's Abigail Drake! Leon Drake's sister! From the museum!"
Quick as a flash and deftly as ever, the doctor side-stepped Clara and Stan and flicked the sonic screwdriver over the handle of Abbie's door.
"Ed!"
No sooner had the door opened, the little red head scrambled forward and barrelled into Edmund Potter's arms, latching on to him as being a familiar face.
Her cheeks were scarlet and her eyes were puffy- betraying the fact that she had obviously been crying earlier.
"Ed," she sniffed. "How did you get here?"
"Abbie!" he breathed, giving the little girl a much-needed hug before moving back a fraction to look her in the eye. "How did I get here? Abbie, how did you get here?"
"Michael took me here," Abbie whimpered, wriggling forward to bury her nose in his shoulder once more. "He was talking about taking me away for a long time but he told me not to tell anybody or he'd hurt Cassy."
"Do you know where Cassy is now?" Edmund asked her, taking her hand and allowing her to guide him back into the room.
Abbie only shook her head. "I dunno. She was here before though. I hearded her outside." The little girl looked downward, rather troubled. "Michael made her cry."
Edmund frowned deeply but managed to keep his composure, lifting his free hand to pat the little girl's head. "Don't worry. It's alright now." He gestured to the others. "The doctor and his friends are going to help you and Cassy get out of here."
Abbie brightened up a little, lifting her head to look around and noticing Clara for the first time. "Hey, I know you!" she chirped. "You're the pretty lady from the museum! We talked before."
Clara smiled down at her. "We sure did, Abbie."
From the inner part of the bedroom, Stan groaned. "Awh, no…this kid is one of those types…"
"What do you mean one of those types?" Edmund began, releasing Abbie's hand and leaving her to chat with Clara as he followed Stan further into the bedroom. "What-?...who is that?"
The young man stared at the wizened old woman lying in the bed.
Her skin was wrinkled and dotted with purple pock-marks and her long, flossy hair formed a greyish halo around her head where she lay.
"That woman," Stan said gravely, nodding towards Abbie. "Is that little girl in about seventy to eighty years from now." Edmund's eyes widened and he shook his head slowly in disbelief as Stan went on. "The Angels keep you here your entire life. It's a never-ending cycle. The day that you first arrive here is the day that you watch yourself die…and the day that you die, you'll see yourself arrive here…"
"That old woman was talking to me earlier," Abbie commented, having wandered over to them. "But now she's sleeping. Shhh…" She pressed her finger to her lips.
A mask-like expression on her face, save for the terrible sadness in her eyes, Clara slowly walked over to the woman in the bed. Gingerly as she could manage, the doctor's loyal companion pressed two fingers to the woman's neck.
After a moment of thin silence, she looked up at the two men and slowly shook her head.
"Hang on a minute!" the doctor cried, suddenly running into the bedroom, stooping down beside Abbie. "Sorry, Abbie. I don't mean to startle you, darling. May I just say that you are one of the prettiest girls in the galaxy? I'm the doctor but you can just call me doctor. Can I ask you a question?"
Abbie's face turned rosy as she turned her cheek into the leg of Edmund's trousers. "Hello, doctor…uh…yep…"
"Is this your first day here in the hotel? Have you been to sleep yet?"
"No, I haven't been to sleep here before…"
The doctor straightened up abruptly, raising his hands to his mouth. "I think we may have just doused two lava-worms with one bucket of water…" He stooped to Abbie's level, taking one of the little girl's hand. "Abbie, I need you to help me to save Cassidy. Do you think that you can be a superhero and help me?"
Abbie looked up into the doctor's face, giving his hand a squeeze. "…yep. I want to save Cassy…"
"Alright then, Abbie," the doctor said, squeezing the little girl's hand in return and looking to her with complete seriousness. "Not right now, but later, I am going to ask you to do a very special favour for me. I'm going to ask you to close your eyes, hold my hand and then I'm going to count to three and we're going to jump up into the air…it's going to make some special magic that will help us save Cassidy…can you do that for me?"
"Doctor, what are y-…?" Edmund began, starting to sound concerned but the Time Lord spoke over him.
"Eddie, with all due respect: I am talking to Abbie and it's important that I have her trust. Not yours."
"Yes, but if you're even thinking about putting a little girl in harm's way…"
"I want to help save Cassy," Abbie interjected, tugging on the doctor's sleeve. "I want to help you, Mr Doctor."
The self-proclaimed "mad man in a blue box" smiled warmly and gave the little girl a hug before straightening up. "Thank you, Abbie." He looked to the other three living occupants of the room and brandishing his screwdriver. "I'm heading off to get Cassidy. You lot stay here with Abbie. Don't change rooms. Keep the door locked. Don't answer it if someone knocks- I won't need to knock. Use your mirrors and torches if needs be…" He saluted them, his voice lowering. "And good luck."
"Good luck, doctor," Clara echoed softly, coming to stand beside the little girl. "Be safe."
"Kick some Angel ass for us, doctor," ordered Stan, offering him an encouraging smile.
"Bring her back," Edmund said finally, nodding. "Bring her back."
The doctor inclined his head to them, giving everyone in the room one last glance before running to the door.
"Right then," he murmured under his breath, pulling the door open. "Allons-oh..."
Not a breath away from the doctor's face, right outside the door, stood three Weeping Angels.
Each of them poised with their claws extended, their mouths open in silent screeches, their blank, grey eyes glazed over with evident rage.
The Time Lord felt his stomach tighten as a vivid memory of the last time that he had seen a Lonely Assassin standing before him passed before his mind's eye.
"Good evening ladies," the doctor said slowly, staring at the three Angels but carefully avoiding their eyes. "I am absolutely loving what you've done with the place…" He cautiously bent his knees, running his hand down the wall and taking a hold of the mirror that Edmund had left propped up there. "…and this hospitality? Wow." He held the mirror to his chest, angling it carefully up at the Angels' feral faces. "And the three of you look stunning this evening. In fact…" With the swiftest of precision and without taking his eyes from the unholy trinity, he hung the mirror on the door's nameplate. "…why don't you take a look at yourselves?"
Satisfied that the Angels were helplessly frozen in stone, the doctor broke into a run, heading straight for the stairs and following the signal from his now-bleeping sonic screwdriver.
He threw the door of the stair-well open, only to freeze as instantly as an Angel himself.
Lining the stairs stretching up to the third floor, was another menacing flock of Weeping Angels- each looking fiercer than the one before it.
Their arms were stretched blindly in the doctor's direction.
Set to tear apart their intruder.
Daring him to take another step.
Daring him to blink.
"This is going to take longer than I'd hoped," he murmured, stepping out into the stair-well and reaching for his mirror. "And time is really not on my side…"
The cave in which she stood was darker than usual.
The little boy was there too.
The little boy that she hadn't saved.
"I'm sorry," she told him, fighting back tears as she reached out for his hand. "I'm so sorry. I tried my best."
The little boy looked at her blankly, the same trickle of scarlet blood- innocent blood- trailing down his pale forehead.
He did not give her his hand but when he opened his mouth to speak, the voice that passed his lips was not that of a younger boy's. It was a woman's.
"Don't let him," the voice bade her. "Don't let him…don't let him…"
"Who are you?" she begged to know.
"The doctor is coming. Wait, for him."
"The doctor?"
"The doctor is coming…the doctor is coming…the doctor is coming…"
"The doctor is coming," Cassidy murmured drunkenly, writhing as she woke and gritting her teeth as a searing pain shot through her head. "Mmph…"
Her body felt almost weightless despite the lead-like heaviness in her temples.
She tried to lift her hand to nurse her throbbing head and realised with a shock that there was nothing beneath her arm.
She was hanging in mid-air.
Her semi-numb fingers suddenly brushed against the corner of a wall and she realised that not only was she seemingly floating in the air but she was also…moving?
Sudden fright sent a jolt of adrenaline through her body and Cassidy immediately tried to open her eyes- but she was completely unable to. Her eyelids were firmly jutted against her eyeballs. After a few quick-breathed seconds of panic, she realised that she was still blindfolded.
The shock seemed to stimulate blood-flow in her body once more and Cassidy made attempt to move- to put her feet on the ground- only to find her knees and shoulders being painfully clamped by a pair of broad arms, overlaid with skin that was far too cold to be that of a human's.
It was then that Cassidy came to the bleary realisation that Michael was carrying her, holding her limp body in his arms in a bridal style.
"Le…lemme go," she moaned, trying to regain command over her own speech and struggling as best she could. As her horrific memories from earlier came flooding back, she recalled him hitting her across the head. Clearly, she had been struck unconscious and only now was her body recovering from the impact.
The Weeping Archangel ignored her command, speaking as infuriatingly coolly as ever.
"Ah. You are awake. I was hoping that you would come around soon. I made the decision after you passed out at the tournament that it was perhaps about time that I should take you to bed…"
"P-assed out?" Cassidy responded with a cough, still trying to wriggle out of his arms. "You fucking hit me and knocked me unconscious, you bastard. Put me down, damn it."
Michael gave her shoulders another painful squeeze, threatening to break her scapula.
"You should feel lucky, little human," he snarled. "You should be at my feet, grovelling right now. The other Angels wanted to murder you whilst you lay helpless but I convinced them otherwise." She could feel him quickening his pace, walking faster.
It was almost frightening, how fluidly he walked.
The Angel moved at a pace so akin to a glide that she couldn't even feel his individual footsteps as they settled upon the floor;
The beast suddenly came to a halt and dropped her roughly, letting her fall to a gritty carpet beneath. Cassidy stumbled to her feet, rubbing her aching backside and wincing as she slowly got to her feet.
She only barely managed to suppress a yelp of surprise when Michael suddenly tore the blindfold from her eyes.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light once more but when they did, she found herself standing in front of two polished mahogany doors, each with interlocking, decorative gold handles. Each of the doors was adorned by delicate wood-carvings of Spring flowers and small birds.
If it had not been for her situation, Cassidy would have certainly been inclined to comment on how pretty they were.
Instead, what she found herself saying aloud was:
"This isn't my room."
The stone angel standing at her back let out a rather exasperated sigh.
"I am aware that this is not your room, silly human. This is in fact, I believe, what the humans call: "The Honeymoon Suite." The other Angels usually keep it clear but have loaned it to me for this occasion. I have decided that I should spoil you a little, considering that you did a fairly good job this evening and it is your special night out, after all…"
Cassidy swallowed, an uncomfortable feeling growing in her stomach.
Despite the quiver in her legs, her basic instincts told her to run.
However running would be futile and she knew that too.
As soon as she turned her back to Michael, he would have her in his grasp mere seconds later.
Apparently impatient with her silence and inaction, the Archangel suddenly spoke a low-voiced command, his tone heavy with threat.
"Enter."
Taking a shallow breath, Cassidy reluctantly did as she was told though her breath immediately stilled in her throat as she walked into the room.
She found herself stepping on to a rich creamy white Berber carpet, which the trials of time had only barely managed to fade, while a magnificent chandelier cast a perfectly gilded glow across the room.
The entire chamber had to be at least four times as big as her originally assigned bedroom and from wall to wall, it was draped in glamorous crimson velvet and encrusted with leaves of gleaming gold.
There were two huge, skyline-view windows on the far wall, opening the room up on to the Los Angeles sky.
The furniture in the room was of the same glossy, flawless mahogany as the doors had been and the centre-piece of the entire chamber was doubtlessly the bed.
It was a stunning four-poster, decked with white and red sheets, headed by scarlet pillows and a surrounded by a canopy of white muslin veils.
For a moment, Cassidy's breath was almost completely taken away by the room.
However the sight of a single red rose upon the white duvet served to completely destroy the façade of fantasy- reminding her where she was and whom she was with.
"How do you find the room, little pet? Does it please you?"
All too soon, the Archangel was at her back.
When she looked over her shoulder, the huge quasi-demonic creature of stone was leering down at her, his wings raised and curved to cast a shadow over her.
She looked away, determined not to give in to his blatant intimidation tactics.
"I'll sleep here."
As she stared straight ahead, she slowly realised that there was something odd about the room.
In particular, the windows.
Paying no heed to Michael, Cassidy slowly walked forward, her eyes focused on the pane of glass. At first, she had thought that it was night-time and as such, that it was particularly dark out. It was when she reached the actual window sill, that she realised that this was not the case at all.
Cassidy reached forward and delicately ran her fingertips down the window.
It was painted black.
The glass was completely painted black.
Cassidy frowned, her eyebrows furrowing as the pad of her index finger traced the gritty, matte black surface. "What…why is this-…?"
All of a sudden, she didn't need to ask her half-formed question.
She didn't to ask the question because Michael had already answered it for her.
The lights in the room suddenly went out.
Without the faint light usually let in by the window, the entire room was pitch black- without a single source of illumination.
Her eyes starved of any kind of light and unable to see, Cassidy was left completely at the Angel's mercy.
She froze, her eyes widening as she backed against the cold glass of the window.
"What are you-? How are you-?"
"That's right, little Cassidy," Michael all but purred. "The ability to drain the power and energy from any given object is another that we Angels possess. Or have you forgotten?" His human captive desperately tried to listen for the source of his voice, but it seemed to be coming from every corner of the room. He could have been anywhere in the room- right in front of her face, if he wanted to be. "I simply coated those windows to make completely certain that some weak slivers of moonlight could not spoil our fun."
"Turn the fucking lights back on!"
Cassidy wrapped her arms around herself, shrinking down against the window.
Could he see her in the darkness?
Or was he just as blind as she was?
Tracking her by her scent?
Tracking her by her voice?
Michael laughed coldly, each tiny inflection of his deep voice seeming to penetrate her skull- her skin, chilling her to her very core.
"Behold how the pathetic, little human weakling still attempts to order a Weeping Angel around as though she is the one in control!" He gave a snarl that gave way into a string of throaty chuckles. "Your stubbornness is both entertaining and endearing, my Cassidy. There is no need to be so hostile, however. I am merely doing all I can to put you at your ease. I have even brought you a sample of that delightful liquid that makes you so happy."
Before she could take another breath, she was suddenly seized by the forearms and flung into the centre of the room. She couldn't even cry out as one arm bound her like an iron strait-jacket, instantly pressing the air out of her lungs like a pair of bellows.
The glass rim of a bottle was suddenly shoved between her lips, clinking against her teeth and causing pain to rocket through her mouth.
The Archangel suddenly tipped the bottle backwards, forcing its astringent liquid contents to flood the mouth of his human-toy.
"Mmmph!"
Cassidy coughed and spluttered, desperately trying to force the bottle from her mouth, choking as the bitter champagne dribbled down the sides of her mouth, caught against her breath and burned her nose and eyes.
Michael dropped the bottle, releasing her and allowing the lights to slowly flicker back on.
Cassidy coughed, doubling over and feeling nauseated.
Her throat felt as though a flaming comet had just rocketed through it and her stomach was no better.
"Oh my word," the living statue goaded, smirking where he stood frozen. "Has she taken a little bit too much again, I wonder?"
Rage and venom coursing through her bloodstream, now accompanied by more alcohol that she had ever been forced to drink so quickly.
She glowered at Michael with heavy, bloodshot eyes. "…I hate you."
"Ungrateful little whelp," the Angel returned. "Your constant hostility towards me is nothing short of heart-breaking. A lowly human slave in other parts of the galaxy would be delighted to be receiving such treatment from their master. I have showered you with gifts and affection. I have shown you phenomenal levels of mercy and patience. I have attempted to include you in the activities of your upperclassmen. I have even gone to the trouble of procuring a beautiful chamber for you to slumber in tonight…"
"And I told you that I'll sleep here!" Cassidy cried, running her fingers through her hair and gripping the blonde tendrils in clumps. "What else do you want me to say?! Thank you! Thank you so bloody much for taking me here! I am having such a fucking lovely time being beaten around and forced to do things against my will!" She turned her back on the statue, sucking in deep breaths between her teeth as she made her way over to the bed. "Thank you!"
The mattress springs squeaked slightly as Cassidy sat down and for the next few minutes that followed, there was a thin silence.
She slowly let her eyes slide over to the Angel, her hands curling where they rested in her lap.
Michael had not moved.
He was simply standing there, silent and still as though he really were nothing more than an ordinary but beautiful stone statue.
Cassidy looked over in his direction, deliberately blinking once or twice.
However Michael did not move an inch.
He just stood there.
Watching her.
"What do you want?" Cassidy finally asked. "Haven't you done enough?"
"Aren't you going to undress for bed?" Michael asked, a strange note coming into his voice.
The human girl felt her heart-rate quicken and a new kind of nausea began to claw at her stomach.
"I…I will when you get out of here!" she told him, looking downwards. "So just leave me alone so that I can go to bed."
But Michael did not leave.
Instead he merely asked her the same question, in the same voice, as though he had not even heard her initial answer.
"Aren't you going to undress for bed?"
Cassidy looked up at him again, noticing that, again, he had not moved an inch.
"I…"
Her mouth suddenly grew dry, her limbs starting to grow numb and her shoulders beginning to shake.
There was something odd about the way he asked the question
There was something about his voice.
There was something about the way he looked at her.
Something dangerous.
"Very well," the sculpted seraph crooned, his voice lowering several octaves to a deep-throated growl. "Perhaps you need me to assist you…"
At these words, Cassidy leapt to her feet, her eyes wide with fear as she backed away from the Weeping Archangel.
Angry threats, patronising comments and harsh commands aside, Michael had never spoken to her in such a way.
He had never sounded so predatory.
"St-stay away f-from me," Cassidy stammered, her back gently thudding against the bedpost as she backed away. She tried to sound threatening but her voice rolled out extremely pleading.
Surely he couldn't be thinking about that?
Of course he had hit her and hurt her before but surely he would never…?
Cassidy's eyelids twitched, forced to blink and suddenly Michael was right in front of her, his teeth bared in a chilling grin, his face lowered to meet hers and his arms raised- prepared to grab her.
"You are in no place to order me around, my lovely, little Cassidy," he growled, letting out a laugh that truly terrified her. "Now, close your eyes, little pet and allow your master to access to your body…"
Bile surged through Cassidy's throat, her pupils dilated in sheer horror as her fears were confirmed.
"No! Don't come near me! D-don't…" The chandelier lights flickered above her head, a fatalistic warning. "N-No…please…no…"
"But Cassidy," he said almost soothingly, his voice lowering. "I must ensure that I am the only one to ever take you. You are my property after all."
"N-no…not that…please …not that…"
The human girl stared at him, her lips trembling as tears welled up in her eyes.
She stared into the Angel's cold grey eyes for a moment, fruitlessly searching for some kind of sympathy.
For some kind of mercy.
Anything to change her apparently sealed fate.
But before she could find any, Cassidy blinked.
The lights went out and the room was instantly plunged into darkness.
Cassidy let out a scream as she felt his hands grab at her body. She tried to push against him and to escape his hold but it was like pushing against a machine of steel; he was inhumanly strong and no matter what she did, there was absolutely no give in his grip.
He tore the flimsy dress from her as easily as though it were made of tissue paper and flung her to the bed.
Survivalist's instincts kicking in, Cassidy desperately tried to roll from the bed- flailing her arms and legs and doing anything to escape the nightmarish ordeal.
But it was no use.
All too soon, he had her pinned to the bed, his hands clamped down on her wrists and his huge form weighting her much smaller, exposed body into the mattress.
Her eyes struggled blindly in the dark to look into the face of captor but she could not see him.
Even if he turned to stone- she would still be helpless beneath him.
Completely trapped.
Originally it had been somewhat of a conquest for the wandering Archangel.
He had initially wanted to see how far he could push her.
He wanted to see how much torture he could put his little human slave through before she finally snapped, her defiant front crumbled and his Cassidy Albright folded like putty in his hands.
Now, his motives were different.
She may have been just a frail, pitifully weak little human but he was still male.
Initially, his thoughts regarding his taking of her had been merely that of deviant fantasy.
However, little by little these thoughts had descended so far into the Hellish depths of depravity that fantasy alone could not satiate his hunger for her…
His mouth clamped down on her throat, her vocal chords vibrating against his lips as she screeched in protest.
"N-no! Please stop! You're hurting me!"
Her screams were such music to him.
He ran the tip of his nose along the hollows of her clavicle, breathing in her essence with vigour.
The Lonely Assassin had no idea what about the girl excited him so much more than females of his own kind.
"No! No! Don't…!"
Perhaps it was her vulnerability?
Her innocence? Her softness?
All he knew was that at that moment, it almost shocked him how much his own body had betrayed him.
His trained eyes cutting through the itch blackness, he could see her face.
She was sobbing now, tears slowly trailing her flushed cheeks.
It was almost comical to see how quickly he could force her to dissolve from a brave young woman to a whimpering little girl.
His little Cassidy started struggling and swearing again as soon as he moved one of his hands from her wrists to her hip.
Trailing his hand down lower, he forced her thighs apart, moving to accommodate himself between them.
The scent of her fear was nothing short of delicious.
He growled, seizing her hair to force her to move closer to him. He enjoyed feeling her short, shallow breaths against his face.
After months of watching her, waiting for the perfect moment to seize her…
Maybe it was disgusting…maybe it was unnatural…
But now her pale, milky flesh was exposed and beneath him.
Ripe, soft, smooth and ready to be ravaged.
She was saying something now.
Something about the other Angels.
They would certainly be fit to kill him if they found out.
As a female human, she was the sweetest of forbidden fruits.
He ground himself against her, moving to prepare her for him.
She was screaming something else now but he couldn't hear her.
The Archangel was deaf to all but his own primal needs.
The call of his own arousal
"Stop?! Stop?!...Master!? Master?!...Master!?...Michael!?"
He suddenly froze, staring down at her in disbelief.
Though that was the name that she had christened him with so long ago, it was the first time that he had ever spoke it aloud.
Cassidy had never been so frightened in her entire life, her chest heaving and her breath rattling in her throat. Hearing his given name upon her lips seemed to have caught his attention for some reason.
Desperate times called for gravely desperate measures, she had decided.
"M-Michael," she repeated, wishing that she could see him in the darkness. "Michael, please st-stop this…I don't…I don't want to…"
For a moment, his movements seemed to slow down, both of his hands simply moving to pin down her wrists against the duvet.
"You lie," he suddenly growled. "You want this as much as I do, you pitiful human harlot."
"Y-Yes y-you're right!" Cassidy suddenly cried, before he could move again. "I…I do want this. I…I…I care about you so much…and I do want this…You're right about…everything…I…I " Her stomach churning, the young woman had very little control over what she saying and noticing that it further halted the Angel's actions, she allowed the words to keep flowing from her mouth. "…I…I just w-want…I just don't want our…" She swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut. "I don't want our first time to be like this…I don't want any other Angels around…or other humans to d-distract me…I just…I just want it to be you and I…" Her voice faltered to a whisper and she turned her head, ashamed of her own ruse. "So it can be p-perfect."
The Angel was silent for a moment when suddenly he snarled, digging his claws into the tender skin of her inner-wrists. "You are trying to deceive me! You lie to me human! I should tear your eyes out right now so that you can never resist me!"
"No!" Cassidy cried out in protest. "I…I'm not lying…you said you knew it yourself! I've been in…" She took a deep breath, slowly despising herself more and more with each following word. "I've been in love with you since I first saw you that day…in the woods…I…I'm telling the truth…"
"You lie," Michael spat gruffly, his voice colder than ever but starting to waver in a way that Cassidy had never heard before. "You insult me with your lies, human…"
Cassidy Albright had no idea what possessed her to do it.
She was barely thinking at all.
But before the Weeping Archangel could say another word, the human girl leaned up and pressed her trembling lips to his.
So how is this going to progress and what is going to happen when the doctor walks in?
Sorry if this chapter is a little off…I'm not sure that I'm entirely happy with it.
I'm also sorry for the long wait.
I have been quite busy lately!
Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!