Chapter 8: Fate or Coincidence?

Why did this had to happen? He almost had believed he could just go back to his old life. At first he had not been sure whether he was able to, but as much as he longed for the red headed angel, as much he was afraid. So many doubts and he was never used to have them. It always had been obvious what to do or not. Now that had changed and yet he had told himself that things would become better, once the routine started.

I did not. Sometimes he woke up from the most bizarre and horrible dreams. Confusing, unsettling images that made no sense and had not connection to past events. Before he had dreamt now and then, but he never felt so empty and shaken in the morning afterwards. He should have known that it was not possible to go back to his old empty life. She had changed him, but he had been to scared to accept it. Yet alone deal with it.

He had not dared to go near her place. Not even to snatch a fresh hand of hair from her brush. It were those confusing emotions that he tried to avoid. He knew they would only grew and became stronger, the closer he get to her. Was it fear of losing himself or feared he her rejection?

Now they had met under the most unfortunate circumstances. It was like fate mocking him for his cowardliness. At first he only reacted throwing the attacker to the ground unsheathing his rapier from the cane to finish his opponent. He did not like being disturbed in such a rough fashion, especially while smoking. Then as the blade made his way towards his opponents heart his anger turned into blank horror as he realised it was her.

His eyes stopped as they discovered his medallion shimmering in a distant light. He was unable to move, his expression showed only shock and surprise. She was not as unable to act as he. Trained, almost conditioned one might said, her attack got him moving. Luckily she had unarmed him, or otherwise he might have hurt her. As they went on, he was able to cut back to mere self-defence. Meeting her, even under this bad light, was as worse and as wondrous as he had envied.

Why had he not took the chance to see her on neutral ground? Now it was too late. All that was left to him was the hair he had ripped from her. He hold it tightly in his fist unable to put it away pacing through his apartment all night. From time to time he moved it over his face, inhaling the fragrance. It was so soft and smelled so beautiful it nearly made him cry. He only stopped as steps approached his door.

He looked at the mail slot and a blank envelope was slipped through it. Who else but his contact would find the way to his place? An old cellar beneath an empty building in the outskirts of the city. Yet he had hoped for her. Imagining her on the steps. That would never happen, not now, not ever - he had destroyed every chance he had with her. He was not sure what he wanted from her, but then the answer was obvious. He wanted everything, he wanted her like he never had wanted everything before.

Being a realist all his life he decided to lay those thoughts aside. He had already messed up and his job was still waiting. Maybe knowing for sure that he had lost his angel, he could carry on. He opened the envelope and read the note. The bold, black letters made him shiver. DISPATCH OF THE ANGELS. THEY MUST NOT INTERFERE.

Moments he stood there just looking at it, but the message remained the same. He could not kill her, not her - fight her, yes, but even then he could not harm her, not on purpose. He could decline, but then a replacement would be sent in his stead. He might have trouble, but that did not bothered him. He knew his replacement would kill the angel, if not him the next one. He burned the note with the envelope in the old oven he used to heat the place. He checked himself in the mirror making sure he left the flat in proper condition. Then taking his cane he left the cellar and walked outside up the stairs.

It was a grey, but dry day. He marched down the street and around the corner. He could smell the cigarettes his contact was smoking before he saw the elder woman leaning against the wall. Laura was a head smaller, about forty, now a very slender woman. She was pretty, long dark brown hair, she never used hair spray. He liked that. The first thing he realised at their first meeting was that her eyes had two different colours - one green, one brown.

At first she was always nervous around him, but in time she became more than relaxed. He met her now for ten years to give his yes or no. He knew almost nothing about her. Except that she married and lost a lot of weight, but only because he saw the ring and her slimming appearance.

Another example that magazines were nothing but a load of misinformation. He did not care for them anyway. Also he had to say he had been reading to a few of them. Since he had little experience with relationships he thought he could learn something. It only had disgusted them. So much uncertainty and hollow recommendations, it seemed all wrong to him. Like playing games, but maybe it was and he was not cut out to participate.

As he approached she faced him and gave him that reminding look to stay away from her hair. Today he did not cared about it. Month ago it had been fun to catch his contact of guard. Since he got back from the grave he had not been tempted to rip out any other women's hair. He only wanted Dylan's. Still it was in his fist. Carefully pocketing it he drew his silver cigarette case out and opened it. He placed on in his mouth and Laura gave him fire.

"So are you in?", she asked him looking worried in a way that made him uneasy. He inhaled deeply and nodded exhaling.

"You know- you really look awful these past month- maybe you pushing yourself too hard."

He raised his eyebrow. Normally she did not went past business talk. Then thinking about it he could not blame her, his reflection in the mirror after escaping from the grave has unsettled even him. He was getting paler each time or was it just the long darkness? He never spent to much time under these days. Also he looked sick, he did not felt that way, but then he hardly ever felt anything anymore.

Laura sighed and walked with a "Take care" down the street. After a few steps she turned around. "You know I don't want to lecture you or anything, but maybe you should get yourself a girlfriend or so. Someone to be around with, even if it is just for a little while. It's good to have someone around - just my experience."

He did not really listened to the last of it. He had not need to hear this. Laura was despite her extra job a normal person with a normal life and normal people tend to care. There were bigger problems ahead, now that he had accepted the job. What could he do? He did not want to go through with this assignment, but as soon as they realised that someone would be send, after him and the angels. Maybe he could get the primary target. It would then be obsolete to go after the angels.

It concerned him that the customer in this case wanted to remain anonymous. He disliked being in close contact, especially after meeting Vivian Wood, but this time he wished he knew whom he was dealing with. It was one of his principles to be loyal to the client, but not at this price. Maybe he was to anxious. Most contractors were not nearly as disturbed as Know and his girl. It would anyway be stupid to risk unnecessary murders. Then again it might be unavoidable to deal with the angels in a way to get to the main target. He wanted to keep Dylan from getting harmed. But at any price? If he betrayed his contact he had nothing left and he wanted to avoid that.

So he strolled to his car - a black Venturi. The French car was fast and then again had a low profile. It would not call for much attention in the city. He slipped behind the wheel and started the motor. Driving through the city he realised it was Christmas. A good time to place an anonymous donation for the orphanage. It also pained him that under no circumstances he was able to go back there. Dylan might have accepted that he returned from the dead, but it might have a disastrous effect on the nuns.

He remembered those times when he was a boy and the orphanage had almost no money. Even then all the boys had got little presents. He still had the little white paper dove Sister Clara, now the mother superior, had folded for him. Nobody ever had given him a present. Not even for his birthday. Fact was he had no idea when he was born. He was about thirty four, but he only counted by summers.

He drove from the freeway deeper into the city. He decided to look around a few locations to see whether he stumbled over them. It was handy that he had collected a bit of intelligence during the Knox case. He was driving by a street with expensive cloth shops, where the angel with the long black hair used to hang out. He had little hope to find her, especially after the incident tonight. He felt like avoiding to see Dylan by looking up the fierce Asian fighter. Yet he hoped that, if he saw her, she would not be alone.

He was parking on one side, reading a newspaper he had bought, as he saw Alex with a handful of shopping-bags emerge from one of the shops. Something was different about her than the other shoppers around her. The Asian woman was overloaded, it was like she bought a completely new wardrobe. 'Maybe it is for Dr. Crushner', he thought. He watched her walking in an other shop and as she came out a few minutes later with a new bag, he was certain of it.

It was not easy to come to a decision, but then in connection with Dylan nothing was. He started the car and left his parking space. The street was almost empty, a few cars rushed by. The Asian woman looked right and left and walked over the street. He saw the car come nearer unnoticed by the angel. The light had anyway turned green for the pedestrians. Instead of slowing down the car sped up ramming into Alex who had realised it at the last moment and tried to roll over the hut.

He saw and heard the windshield brake and form a spider net as she crashed into it. There was little blood, probably because she braced herself for the impact, but she was send by it back on the street. He heard the crowd murmuring and yelling at the spectacle before their eyes. Screams of shock as the car simply drove over the young woman. The noise was horrible as the front and back wheels went over her body.

It was time to get out of there, he stepped on the gas. Looking in the rear mirror he saw the angel lying in an odd position crumbled on the floor. Blood was covering her white top. The bags lay around randomly the content spilled out. He already heard the police sirens approaching. His hands shook a little, but he hid the car and himself in time. Thinking how Dylan might react to this, he felt his skin crawl.

She would never forgive, but it comforted him, that at least she was safe for a while. Still he could not believe what had happened. He had hoped something would come up that helped him to make up his mind, but he had not thought something like this might happened. Still unsettled he changed the licence plates of his car - just in case and went away to destroy the old ones.