By These Hands

Chapter 1

The night cold burned ever so fiercely against ivory cheeks, but neither cared. Neither could care. They had been reckless, foolish. Hopefully, they would not have to pay for their sins. Only he had seen her though, the girl whose fingers were feasts for the vermin that resided in the garbage piles that she was placed next to. He had hoped she was just a whore in a drunken stupor, who wouldn't know up from down and would be easily manipulated into thinking she was being kissed by her lover instead of being life for a being not human. But she was not any of what he thought. Her eyes saw nothing, her skin felt nothing and another life had been caught up in the web the city wound around every body, suffocating and bleeding her until life's breath was stolen from her mouth. Around her neck she bore a golden crucifix on a chain and a well covering black dress. A gasp was seen in the eyes that mirrored the Pacific and all its tides, a prayer barely applied to her lips. Could she have been a nun? She could have… but who would dare to kill such innocence that was the sender of God's word?

He had seen her, but both were seen by it. Both had seen what it wanted. And it had wanted them.

It had wanted them bathed and dancing naked in their own blood. Their feet would stomp among the orange petals spread on the floor as they waltzed around in this morbid vampiric menagerie. It had desired to see their eyes roll back but continue their dance, pale and streaked with red from their carved throats. It had wanted to see the roses of the life's blood against the snow of their skin before they flopped lifelessly to the ground and it laughed. Then it would tire of their idle corpses and rip them apart before feeding their flesh to his hounds.

And because of this passionate desire to see them die, they had run.

The darkness spread around their bodies and the night air pulled gently on them and a wind swept up the alley, as if it were chuckling melodically whilst it tested the faith they held in their system. The wind placed slick magnolia leaves beneath their heels and garbage in front of their kicking legs. And it was that winter wind that was bound to doom them both.

Breaths poured out in bursts of mist as they rounded the corner. Soft Oxford shoes made a steady pattern as both galloped through a shield of night from the raging behind them, laces swatting the ground with welting force. Suddenly, she gasped out in alarm, stopping like she was pulled back by a ghost's ribbon. A fence between properties blocked the swift exit they had anticipated. They stood stock still, her body trembling like dry maple leaves, and his…

Both heads snapped to the side when they heard the pounding of padded paws against the city's concrete. Behind it were the sirens of the slick cars who had found the girl and then, enveloped in all the chaos, was the dark man's laughter that echoed down passages and up stairwells but had yet to be heard by human ears. In a fit of fear, she covered her ears and let out a long wail, primal on all accounts. She howled like Lucifer himself possessed her, until he grabbed her satiny collar and slapped her quickly, and hard, on her snowy cheek, causing a print of crimson to mark her pretty face. He looked deep into her face, not wanting to, but absorbing her thoughts. The visions of a thousand deaths entered his mind's eye. They moved like a red eyed black stallion through his mind, one with heavy hooves, ready to crush the bone of any being that came in it's dooming path.

"Do you want to be a fool?!"

His words frightened those azure eyes, increasing the panic caused by their pursuers, and so he released her roughly. This was not his fashion, but he was forced to be hard as she fluttered in her frailty. Still, she began to crumble. He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her quick. "You will not fall victim to this, understand me?" he whispered through gritted teeth, hair of tawny color falling into his eyes as he jarred her. She nodded, trying to swallow the lump in her throat named Horror.

He let his grip on her frame disintegrate and he went first, over the fence, its chain links rattling in the hurricane force of fear that was held beneath his skin. He knew she could feel it, touch it more than he could know. It was as if it were tangible.

The top of their obstacle was lined with barbed wire, put there by a man who hated the outside world, that brought blood through his thick pant legs and created long streaks of crimson on his unprotected hands. As his feet touched the ground on the other side, the barking suddenly grew louder. She let out a quick shriek and lost her grip on the fence, her dress catching on loose wires, holding her upside down. He took a step forward and she cried out in alarm. He considered leaving her, separating from her and driving the darkness into a state of confusion that would buy them some time. But he could see them, her visions of what would come if he did. He could see the complete horror in her eyes as the scene of her flesh being torn away from her filled her mind and erupted over into his. The hounds would bite at her with foaming jowls and gleaming teeth, tearing away flesh, clothing and life in one movement of their vise-like jaws.

The crimson image sent fear to his heart and he tore at the skirt and fence that held her. He knew his master loved her so, as did he, so he could not endure leaving her with the canines of the Reaper at their heels. He bent the metal chain links, snapped them, and tore through them, feeling their snagging ends push through his skin and find the muscle within. He grimaced, but pressed his thoughts towards freeing her. Blood flowed freely, though it had the appearance of quick tar. "Come on!" he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her down, ripping half her dress in this process, and through the ebony air.

He glanced back to reassure himself that they were taking the path to safety. Instead he saw the pack of dogs had separated into two lines and seemed to be as soldiers, standing at attention in the presence of their leader. A shadow leaped down from the roof of a nearby building, approaching them in a way of liquid. It stopped at the end of the line, hovering a few inches above the ground.

"You see it now, don't you?! You have no love!"

The dogs howled in a ravenous frenzy as the words were bellowed through the night, like a chorus of obsidian devils. A black gloved hand pointed at the two. "You do not hold love! You will never hold it!" the blackened creature shouted at them. "Shut up!" he shouted, stepping forward in a threatening motion. The being threw back its head and began laughing maniacally. He stared at it. 'What or who could this mad thing be?' he thought. Then it lowered its head and he could feel the eyes of this daemon boring into the both of them. "Who are you?!" he demanded of the shadow. It just chuckled and began its earlier path.

"Hurry!" he shouted and began pulling at her again. He was not worried of their path any longer. The thing behind them continued to follow, no matter the twists and turns they took. It was to a risk that he was taking them, but it was needed. If they couldn't avoid the beasts that scurried along highways and streets, then how could they survive the red hands of evil? Into the speeding traffic they went, in desperation. The wall of sound interrupted his mind, nearly breaking it. It would affect him, but would it hurt the thing behind them? He pulled her up as he just upon the roof of a small car. She cried out as the breaking vehicles nearly hit her. He just forced harder on her hand, rushing her through. When they reached the end, he twisted around, gasping in breaths and exhaling steam.

The form walked slowly out into the busy street, still laughing as it calmly avoided each vehicle. Then, suddenly, the dark shape was covered in headlights. It drew a hand to its face, blinded by the headlights. The lights belonged to the hulking form of a city bus. Before it had a chance to move, the shape was sucked under the wheels of this large form of transportation. A distinct thump was heard as the being fell victim to the spinning wheels and the bus squealed to a stop. The driver cursed as other cars swerved around his vehicle. He opened the door, trying to calm a squealing old woman as he exited. As soon as he was outside the great shining shell, he bent over, trying to see under his tires. After a minute, he stood up, mumbling something of deer and their stupidity. The shadow was gone, or dead.

Still, they could hear the raving laughter, breaking open from all around, seeping into their ears.

She wrapped her arms around him, staring out into the darkness, almost waiting for the evil to close its lips around them and swallow them whole. "Quatre…?" she said quietly. He placed a warm hand on her head, pulling it down and stroking her hair, leaving a trail of scarlet for his wounds had yet to seal. Never had she trembled so much when he held her in his encirclement of arms, except for this moment. "Shhh…" he comforted, kissing her forehead. "It was nothing, Relena. No one. If this had been any kind of threat, he would have promptly taken care of it," he said. She just whimpered, her fear fading with the wind, blowing onto another soul who would also be changed by these actions of the night.

The way back to their home was quick, and the nightly chatter of animals and the hum of cicadas and chirp of crickets assured them of their safety. No one hurtful could find them here, a place they had lived for nearly seventy years. It stood high among the trees, clawing and raking its nails across the moon with its Gothic archways and tall black fences.

"Are we nearly there Quatre?" she said quietly, leaning her head on his shoulder as he supported her. "Yes," he said with a smile. For the first time in years, his body ached. It had pulsated in fear, and that hurt him after living so long in peace. But he saw the white fountain in the darkness, heard its rushing waters and was relieved. "We can rest here for a minute, the house isn't far," he said setting her down on the smoothed marble, barely wet with the spray of the fountain. Quatre bent down beside her, cupping his hands and bringing up a bit of water. He held out a lock of her hair, and let the water run down it. He hoped to wash his blood from her. It would be an ugly reminder to wake up to. He submerged his hands again and rubbed his wet fingers on the delicate skin of her hands and face. "Don't worry, Relena. Everything will be okay," he said as he washed away the dark lines of scratches and the smudges of his blood. She smiled faintly at his words, then fell against his supporting limbs. His heart almost leapt, but he knew she had just fainted. He then picked her up, carrying her small form with ease towards the towering shadow they knew as home.

The door opening was not a quiet sound and neither was its closing, but his footsteps were soft. "Quatre…" came a deep voice rough bass that was a sound of pebbles crunching beneath shoes but was gentle despite its texture. Quatre stopped and stood there. The door to his right was barely open, revealing the only light in the room as the rays of the moon. "Pardon me, while I take Relena to her bed. She is very tired," he said. There was a moment of pure silence in the house before the voice once again came through the open door. "Very well," it said. Quatre turned and made his way up the stairs, towards Relena's room.

He closed Relena's door quietly, being careful with the noise of the tumblers against the silence of the house. Then he went back down the stairs, slowly approaching the door before opening it. He stood there, taking on the scene in front of him.

There was nothing out of the ordinary. Milliardo, his master, always sat in the moonlight before sleeping as the sun rose outside the thick black curtains. He was dressed in his finest clothes. Black coat, with a lace frock and some of the stark white shirt coming out from the sleeves of the coat and nearly covering his knuckles. Quatre cocked his head to the side at this manner, a thing that was, in truth, out of order from most nights. His usual garments were his bedclothes. "Good evening Father," Quatre said, leaning against the frame of the doorway.

Milliardo's nostrils flared around the edges, just enough to be seen. He frowned. "You bleed, Quatre," he said. Quatre bowed his head, remembering that he had failed to cleanse his hands thoroughly in the fountain near their home. "I-I'm sorry, sir," he said quietly. Milliardo turned towards him, finally opening his eyes to the young boy. "Why do you call me 'sir'? Have I shamed you? You were never below me, Quatre. We are of equals. Come," he said, gesturing. Quatre hesitated before he approached his master. He had great respect for the man who had changed him, made him what he was, but Milliardo was growing old. Madness would soon come, and what would happen? Would he turn into a shell of nothingness, or swing his hand out against the ones he called his children in unexplained rage?

Quatre kneeled in front of his master, looking up into those cobalt eyes. Milliardo leaned forward, taking Quatre's face in his hands. "You tremble, my angel. Whatever is the matter? What could've happened that would have driven Relena to slumber so early and break you so hard?" he asked, his touch like that of a blossom's petals. Quatre faltered. Should he tell what had happened? Should he tell the truth?

"You should always tell the truth, my angel," Milliardo said, a twinge of smile coming to his mouth and his fingers brushing gently Quatre's blonde hair. "Someone came for us tonight, Milliardo. They approached with much force, sir…" Quatre stopped at the last word for it caused Milliardo's features to shake. His face grew warm and he pulled Quatre's face to his knee. "The world is full of dangers, my angel, and I am afraid I have never taught you this. But do not…" the old master's words faded off. Quatre stared into the darkness, waiting for more words, for a moment before twisting his head from the embrace of his master's hands and looking up. Milliardo's eyes were closed and his breathing deeper than a few moments before. Quatre pulled himself up, walking towards the curtains to close them before the dawn came to claim his second father and oldest friend.

From a distance, a strange figure was perched in a tree. Long chocolate hair flowed in the wind, but she never minded it. A sword rested on her thigh, ready to be used upon a trespasser of her serenity. She narrowed her eyes as the voices of inside the great house swirled round her ears. These words disturbed her. She feared she would have to condemn this family. "Beware, dear ones, for the Angel brings the burden of death," she whispered to the wind, quickly disappearing as white hands fearfully opened a curtain to view the night.

– I know, I know. A bit short for the avid reader's tastes, but hey, I'm just getting started. Have no worries Heero, Treize, Wufei, and Trowa and the girls' fans! The other characters will be hopping along soon. And if you think it's a bit dark and you hope there will be lighter moments, then stop hoping. Because this fic will stay just as dark as this, though not as filled with violence as the chapter you have just conquered.

~Hotaru J, Dosei no Otohime