Chapter 4
That desperate scream of the red-headed angel echoed through his mind. It hurt him more than the blade in his heart. He wanted to reach for her, but he could not. His lung was filling with blood, his body weakened. He was falling, falling over the edge of the roof. Then he died, well did he?
He still could think, remember, feel those confusing emotions, that scared him more than the fact, that he was again without any feeling for his body or the world around him. He had no eyes to open, no skin to touch and no breath to draw. Yet he still remembered how her lips felt. Kissing her was the most irrational thing he had done and the most wondrous.
But it was not like him. Everything he had felt since that moment was so powerful he had difficulties sorting it out. His life precision, determination, order and he never engaged in action he had no control at all. So why had he done it? What made him hold onto the beautiful angel after he had pulled her away from the edge? Yet alone to kiss her?
Even when he fetched a strain of hair, he always was doing it on purpose and knew the why. Hair had such a divine smell over it and it was so soft and beautiful, especially hers. One of the few pleasures he allowed himself to have. No, he had not controlled himself while kissing her. He was so lost in that wonderful experience he had grabbed her hair and just pulled it out. His excitement and confusion had been so great he had to cry out.
Instead of trying to regain his control he was mesmerised by the angel caressing her face with his hair. Strange enough he had not even realised that she had torn it out. He watched her and had to think about her luscious, soft lips. He wanted to know what was going on and remembering that concerned, thoughtful look on her face he felt himself turning to her. Was he actually saying something to her?
He was not sure what he was trying to ask her, but he remembered the attempt. He had felt so close to her like never before to an other person. Unfortunately he had to pay the price for dwelling in this state of exhilaration as the sudden pain moved through his body. He heard that Irish man's voice, but he was too focused on the angel's horrified expression to even realise what he was saying.
Her 'No' haunted his thoughts. It gave him the feeling that she cared about him and he liked to think so. He told himself to stop being so irrational, but he could not help himself. There was no meditation, no exercise to perform. He was helpless lost in those last moments. He was not able to do anything but thinking about her. Was it that she was not fighting back like her Asian friend? She had not the slightest sign of mistrust in her lovely eyes.
She was startled surprised and as he slowly loosened his tight grip on her, she even leaned into his arms. Not again, he told himself, he could not bear remembering that kiss. He never imagined it could be such a divine feeling, he never had done so before. It was no good to torture himself with it further. He searched for another memory.
He tried to remember the first time they had met. She and her friends were good fighters he admired that in an enemy. And enemies they had been. He was to lead them to the place where Vivian Wood had tied her lover up only minutes before he gone to the party. He had not expected to be that challenged. At first he was stunned by their exquisite teamwork. They fought as one and he needed sometime to adjust, to drive them apart.
If he only had been allowed to fight with all his cunning, ability and strength. Still it was a good fight, he enjoyed it and hated to end it by fulfilling his assignment. But the fact that he had conquered hair from the red head made it easier. It had a very memorable basic fragrance. He tried to concentrate harder on what had happened next during that disastrous involvement with Knox and Wood.
He never been fond of them, but they paid the bill and he was honouring his contracts. That was one of his basic principles. It was what made him the man he was today. He was a well paid assassin, but then a man had to follow his talents. And at least he could support the mother superior and thank her for all the kindness she had shown him. Also she would never approve the way he made his living.
He did not mind the killing. He was familiar with it since he could remember. Had he knew how complicated the whole plan was going to become he probably had not accepted it. He never died before during an assignment, but worst of all had been the scene in Knox house. He just had killed Corwin, to ensure that Red Star would not notice the illegal use of their satellites. He had known that other assassins had been send after the angels and was even more surprised to see the red head.
Knox was taunting her and Vivian sure had her fun, too. Only that there was nothing amusing about it. He felt sorry for her. In his opinion nobody deserved to be treaded like this. That was made him so effective. He had no need to torment his targets, he just took them out. Knox was not getting it, his superior attitude matched with his inferior actions made him almost sick, but he remained silent - as usual.
He even had learnt to control his body language leaving others to wonder what he was truly thinking or feeling. He seldom felt much and when he was overpowered by his feelings he just let them out all at once. That night he just felt a little satisfaction as he saw the sheet cutting into the glass shred. After all killing her was not his mission and he saw no need to inform Know or Vivian.
She had survived and also it had proved to be fatal afterwards, he know was glad about it. It all had happened so quick. He was fighting the dark haired angel and it had been a good fight. She was quite the fighter. He could not resist to pull out her hair. He had better taken her more seriously. She hit him pretty good with that rock and was pushing him further into defence.
The fight ended the moment the red-head entered the scene leaving him chained to Vivian Wood. What an awful experience it had been to be torn apart and burned by that explosion. Again he had returned, after a time gap of three weeks. How long would it take this time. Probably depending on how badly the impact had damaged his body. He was somewhat glad that he was always regaining consciousness in a fully regenerated body.
He wanted to empty his thoughts getting some rest, but as soon as he tried to, he saw her face again. He was focused on her and considering this incredibly experience on the roof with her, it only seemed natural. And yet dangerous, it had made him vulnerable. Also it had shown him that there was more to live than order and devotion. Much more. He always suspected, but he actually never believed that it was meant for him.
He probably should be grateful for that moment, it was not likely that he would ever again have the opportunity to experience this once more. And then again the way she cried out as the deadly blow struck him, left him with a small trace of hope. How would she re-act when he returned to face her? Would she let him come that close to her again? Being betrayed by Knox she should have learnt to be more careful upon whom to trust.
After all he was just per incident on her side and also he hoped he never end up facing her as an enemy again. He knew to well who he was. If she remembered that, too … Don't think about it he told himself. But he had no choice. No matter how hard he tried to remember other events from his past, sooner or later the angel came back into his thoughts.
Right back then when he had killed that petty assassin that was after Max. He had seen her before and as she was jumping by on her bike he grabbed into her hair. Different shampoo, but there was still her personal fragrance about them. He left the boy then to their care. He was sure they would take good care of them. Then again he had to think that they seemed not to shocked that he was alive then, but they had never really seen him die. Not like on the roof.
Was it a sign that from all the woman he had met he only felt compelled to kiss her? What was so special about her? He had the feeling the answer to that question was strictly emotional and he knew he would not find an answer until he knew what he truly felt for her. There was nothing he had experienced that might help him. There was only one other person he cared for - the mother superior.
Despite everything that spoke against him, she had taken care of him, but it was totally different from what he felt for the girl.
She was more like a mother, the only mother he ever knew. He was told that his mother had did giving birth to him and he had no reason to believe it to be otherwise. The hate his relatives and the rest of his tribe had always shown him spoke for itself. At first he was not sure why they even kept him. Being so furious about him being only half-gypsy some would have expected that they left him with his father.
He had always tried to ask about his parents, but he only received punishment and more hate. So he kept silent - literally. Words were obsolete, after all with his silence he had got more answers than with his questions. He stayed by himself and more and more they began to ignore him. It had gone so far, that he was able to overhear a conversation. Knowing that they had killed his father for stealing one of their sisters away he felt this terrible deep anger.
He waited that night until everyone had fallen asleep than he barricaded the wagons locking them inside. It was not easy to get them to burn, but as soon as it began the fire spread fast. Setting the roofs on fire. He heard them scream, but he felt nothing for them. After all it was there law to take revenge upon those who had harmed the tribe, the family.
Still he had always kept it a secret. Not even to the mother superior he had communicated what horrible deeds he had already done. Maybe he never confessed to her, because he felt there was nothing to regret. Should he feel sorry about it? Better to keep silent, it was always the best choice. Learning that there were other path he finally decided to walk his own path. Also he knew that the mother superior would not agree with it, he pursued that way.
To her the knowledge would only be a burden. To him it was only means to an end the financial crisis that threatened to be the end of her work. Later it became the most natural way to live for him. Being a well paid assassin gave him a lot of free time. Part he spent improving his deadly talents, part was reserved for his interests.
He loved to race, it was almost a shame that he could not keep the job at Red Stars. A real racing car was definitely something. Driving was a wonderful thing. Seeing the world rush by, experiencing the acceleration and still be in control. He also enjoyed to read. Something he also owed to the orphanage. Patiently they taught him how to read and write - even in different languages. Accepting his silence made him respect and listen to the mother superior.
Than again was her beautiful blond hair. He never saw hair like hers before. It was not until this one evening that he even caught a glimpse on it. He had to take it. Ever since he felt the soft fabric in this hands he was obsessed with it. She seemed shocked at his reaction, but then she continued. Once in a while there was bit of her hair hanging out of her tight robe during those hair cutting sessions.
She had such a kind heart. Maybe he cared so much about her, because she was the first to show kindness towards him. He wondered how she had treated him, if she knew what he had done. Was is it that what made him think so much about the angel. Because she had at least a good idea how he was and still she seemed to be opening up to him. It was strange, but there was no solution, no answer he could find to all his questions as his mind raced on and on.
Then suddenly he opened his eyes and stared into darkness. It was almost comforting. He took a deep breath, moved his body and realised that he was trapped inside a coffin. Panic rushed over him and he tried to use all his strength to lift the lit. It was no use he knew it. He was probably already buried. Buried alive. He tried to stay calm, slowing his breath for he was not sure, what would happen if he used all the oxygen. Would he suffocate and come back? Revive only to experience it all over again?
There was no way out. He had to accept that he would not escape by himself. Lying there trapped he began to notice the strangest things. Like how outstanding the quality of his prison was. Who would lay him to his final rest in such an expensive coffin? Only the mother superior.
The angels must have informed her and she took care of everything. He hoped there was another explanation, what was he to do knowing that he was dead to the only person that ever cared about him. Maybe not the only one, but then to the angel he was also dead. Which brought him back to the question how he would react now when she saw him again. An endless circle that would stop even if he died again. If he knew one thing for certain than that he would not stay dead for long. He never did.
That desperate scream of the red-headed angel echoed through his mind. It hurt him more than the blade in his heart. He wanted to reach for her, but he could not. His lung was filling with blood, his body weakened. He was falling, falling over the edge of the roof. Then he died, well did he?
He still could think, remember, feel those confusing emotions, that scared him more than the fact, that he was again without any feeling for his body or the world around him. He had no eyes to open, no skin to touch and no breath to draw. Yet he still remembered how her lips felt. Kissing her was the most irrational thing he had done and the most wondrous.
But it was not like him. Everything he had felt since that moment was so powerful he had difficulties sorting it out. His life precision, determination, order and he never engaged in action he had no control at all. So why had he done it? What made him hold onto the beautiful angel after he had pulled her away from the edge? Yet alone to kiss her?
Even when he fetched a strain of hair, he always was doing it on purpose and knew the why. Hair had such a divine smell over it and it was so soft and beautiful, especially hers. One of the few pleasures he allowed himself to have. No, he had not controlled himself while kissing her. He was so lost in that wonderful experience he had grabbed her hair and just pulled it out. His excitement and confusion had been so great he had to cry out.
Instead of trying to regain his control he was mesmerised by the angel caressing her face with his hair. Strange enough he had not even realised that she had torn it out. He watched her and had to think about her luscious, soft lips. He wanted to know what was going on and remembering that concerned, thoughtful look on her face he felt himself turning to her. Was he actually saying something to her?
He was not sure what he was trying to ask her, but he remembered the attempt. He had felt so close to her like never before to an other person. Unfortunately he had to pay the price for dwelling in this state of exhilaration as the sudden pain moved through his body. He heard that Irish man's voice, but he was too focused on the angel's horrified expression to even realise what he was saying.
Her 'No' haunted his thoughts. It gave him the feeling that she cared about him and he liked to think so. He told himself to stop being so irrational, but he could not help himself. There was no meditation, no exercise to perform. He was helpless lost in those last moments. He was not able to do anything but thinking about her. Was it that she was not fighting back like her Asian friend? She had not the slightest sign of mistrust in her lovely eyes.
She was startled surprised and as he slowly loosened his tight grip on her, she even leaned into his arms. Not again, he told himself, he could not bear remembering that kiss. He never imagined it could be such a divine feeling, he never had done so before. It was no good to torture himself with it further. He searched for another memory.
He tried to remember the first time they had met. She and her friends were good fighters he admired that in an enemy. And enemies they had been. He was to lead them to the place where Vivian Wood had tied her lover up only minutes before he gone to the party. He had not expected to be that challenged. At first he was stunned by their exquisite teamwork. They fought as one and he needed sometime to adjust, to drive them apart.
If he only had been allowed to fight with all his cunning, ability and strength. Still it was a good fight, he enjoyed it and hated to end it by fulfilling his assignment. But the fact that he had conquered hair from the red head made it easier. It had a very memorable basic fragrance. He tried to concentrate harder on what had happened next during that disastrous involvement with Knox and Wood.
He never been fond of them, but they paid the bill and he was honouring his contracts. That was one of his basic principles. It was what made him the man he was today. He was a well paid assassin, but then a man had to follow his talents. And at least he could support the mother superior and thank her for all the kindness she had shown him. Also she would never approve the way he made his living.
He did not mind the killing. He was familiar with it since he could remember. Had he knew how complicated the whole plan was going to become he probably had not accepted it. He never died before during an assignment, but worst of all had been the scene in Knox house. He just had killed Corwin, to ensure that Red Star would not notice the illegal use of their satellites. He had known that other assassins had been send after the angels and was even more surprised to see the red head.
Knox was taunting her and Vivian sure had her fun, too. Only that there was nothing amusing about it. He felt sorry for her. In his opinion nobody deserved to be treaded like this. That was made him so effective. He had no need to torment his targets, he just took them out. Knox was not getting it, his superior attitude matched with his inferior actions made him almost sick, but he remained silent - as usual.
He even had learnt to control his body language leaving others to wonder what he was truly thinking or feeling. He seldom felt much and when he was overpowered by his feelings he just let them out all at once. That night he just felt a little satisfaction as he saw the sheet cutting into the glass shred. After all killing her was not his mission and he saw no need to inform Know or Vivian.
She had survived and also it had proved to be fatal afterwards, he know was glad about it. It all had happened so quick. He was fighting the dark haired angel and it had been a good fight. She was quite the fighter. He could not resist to pull out her hair. He had better taken her more seriously. She hit him pretty good with that rock and was pushing him further into defence.
The fight ended the moment the red-head entered the scene leaving him chained to Vivian Wood. What an awful experience it had been to be torn apart and burned by that explosion. Again he had returned, after a time gap of three weeks. How long would it take this time. Probably depending on how badly the impact had damaged his body. He was somewhat glad that he was always regaining consciousness in a fully regenerated body.
He wanted to empty his thoughts getting some rest, but as soon as he tried to, he saw her face again. He was focused on her and considering this incredibly experience on the roof with her, it only seemed natural. And yet dangerous, it had made him vulnerable. Also it had shown him that there was more to live than order and devotion. Much more. He always suspected, but he actually never believed that it was meant for him.
He probably should be grateful for that moment, it was not likely that he would ever again have the opportunity to experience this once more. And then again the way she cried out as the deadly blow struck him, left him with a small trace of hope. How would she re-act when he returned to face her? Would she let him come that close to her again? Being betrayed by Knox she should have learnt to be more careful upon whom to trust.
After all he was just per incident on her side and also he hoped he never end up facing her as an enemy again. He knew to well who he was. If she remembered that, too … Don't think about it he told himself. But he had no choice. No matter how hard he tried to remember other events from his past, sooner or later the angel came back into his thoughts.
Right back then when he had killed that petty assassin that was after Max. He had seen her before and as she was jumping by on her bike he grabbed into her hair. Different shampoo, but there was still her personal fragrance about them. He left the boy then to their care. He was sure they would take good care of them. Then again he had to think that they seemed not to shocked that he was alive then, but they had never really seen him die. Not like on the roof.
Was it a sign that from all the woman he had met he only felt compelled to kiss her? What was so special about her? He had the feeling the answer to that question was strictly emotional and he knew he would not find an answer until he knew what he truly felt for her. There was nothing he had experienced that might help him. There was only one other person he cared for - the mother superior.
Despite everything that spoke against him, she had taken care of him, but it was totally different from what he felt for the girl.
She was more like a mother, the only mother he ever knew. He was told that his mother had did giving birth to him and he had no reason to believe it to be otherwise. The hate his relatives and the rest of his tribe had always shown him spoke for itself. At first he was not sure why they even kept him. Being so furious about him being only half-gypsy some would have expected that they left him with his father.
He had always tried to ask about his parents, but he only received punishment and more hate. So he kept silent - literally. Words were obsolete, after all with his silence he had got more answers than with his questions. He stayed by himself and more and more they began to ignore him. It had gone so far, that he was able to overhear a conversation. Knowing that they had killed his father for stealing one of their sisters away he felt this terrible deep anger.
He waited that night until everyone had fallen asleep than he barricaded the wagons locking them inside. It was not easy to get them to burn, but as soon as it began the fire spread fast. Setting the roofs on fire. He heard them scream, but he felt nothing for them. After all it was there law to take revenge upon those who had harmed the tribe, the family.
Still he had always kept it a secret. Not even to the mother superior he had communicated what horrible deeds he had already done. Maybe he never confessed to her, because he felt there was nothing to regret. Should he feel sorry about it? Better to keep silent, it was always the best choice. Learning that there were other path he finally decided to walk his own path. Also he knew that the mother superior would not agree with it, he pursued that way.
To her the knowledge would only be a burden. To him it was only means to an end the financial crisis that threatened to be the end of her work. Later it became the most natural way to live for him. Being a well paid assassin gave him a lot of free time. Part he spent improving his deadly talents, part was reserved for his interests.
He loved to race, it was almost a shame that he could not keep the job at Red Stars. A real racing car was definitely something. Driving was a wonderful thing. Seeing the world rush by, experiencing the acceleration and still be in control. He also enjoyed to read. Something he also owed to the orphanage. Patiently they taught him how to read and write - even in different languages. Accepting his silence made him respect and listen to the mother superior.
Than again was her beautiful blond hair. He never saw hair like hers before. It was not until this one evening that he even caught a glimpse on it. He had to take it. Ever since he felt the soft fabric in this hands he was obsessed with it. She seemed shocked at his reaction, but then she continued. Once in a while there was bit of her hair hanging out of her tight robe during those hair cutting sessions.
She had such a kind heart. Maybe he cared so much about her, because she was the first to show kindness towards him. He wondered how she had treated him, if she knew what he had done. Was is it that what made him think so much about the angel. Because she had at least a good idea how he was and still she seemed to be opening up to him. It was strange, but there was no solution, no answer he could find to all his questions as his mind raced on and on.
Then suddenly he opened his eyes and stared into darkness. It was almost comforting. He took a deep breath, moved his body and realised that he was trapped inside a coffin. Panic rushed over him and he tried to use all his strength to lift the lit. It was no use he knew it. He was probably already buried. Buried alive. He tried to stay calm, slowing his breath for he was not sure, what would happen if he used all the oxygen. Would he suffocate and come back? Revive only to experience it all over again?
There was no way out. He had to accept that he would not escape by himself. Lying there trapped he began to notice the strangest things. Like how outstanding the quality of his prison was. Who would lay him to his final rest in such an expensive coffin? Only the mother superior.
The angels must have informed her and she took care of everything. He hoped there was another explanation, what was he to do knowing that he was dead to the only person that ever cared about him. Maybe not the only one, but then to the angel he was also dead. Which brought him back to the question how he would react now when she saw him again. An endless circle that would stop even if he died again. If he knew one thing for certain than that he would not stay dead for long. He never did.
