On the serene Mediterranean coast of France, a girl lay on the beach, staring up at the clear blue sky. Honey-brown eyes half-closed, she had the appearance and grace of a slender feline, with her tall, lithe figure and long curls of brown hair. Her skin was copper from many days at her coastal home, a beautiful tone that no machine could reproduce. Yet behind this graceful feline, there was a serpent ready to strike.

"Antonio," she called in a melodious French accent. "Come and bring me my bag." A similarly handsome-featured young man nodded to his sister and went to get her duffle bag. Really, he found it quite amusing watching his delicate sister. First she would act like an innocent beauty, but deep within was the girl that he had grown up with. Small and beautiful, with a fiery spirit. Daunting and proud at the same time, she was one of the most ambitious people that Antonio could have ever hoped to know. In some ways it was a rather attractive side, and in others, it was frightening. "Here you go," he said gently in his mellow tone of voice. She was the younger sister, and wasn't yet beyond panic or extreme exhilaration. If anything, she was enjoying life at its fullest at that very moment, and that was understandable.

"Thank you," she said kindly, pulling out a towel and throwing it over herself like a blanket. "You and Father never seem to get cold, Antonio," she sighed. "I wish I never did. Whenever I feel cold, I also feel lonely, as if I'm back to the time when Mama died. You still remember her....don't you?" Antonio nodded, and laughed inwardly at the open innocence of his sister. Usually, she would find their mother's death to be a very sensitive subject, but that day had seemed unusual from the start.

"Of course I do, but just because she's dead doesn't mean that we have to feel lonely without her. True, we should remember those who have passed away, but she wanted us to live happy lives. Then, when she died, she would know that her children were able to live life and be happy with it."

Both fell into a reflective silence, allowing so many memories to return. On her last day among the living, their mother had been happy, almost too happy. Had she known that death was to befall her that night? Most people know when death is at their door, but she had taken Antonio aside that day, and her hand had been shaking. "Mon garcon," she had said affectionately, her voice steady despite her quavering hand. "You know that eventually I will pass on to Heaven, and so will your father. La famille d'Ammoure has countless enemies, however, enemies who wish to kill myself, your father, and eventually your sister. You have not been forgotten, mon Antonio, but I have simply hidden your existance from the crime lords who seek their revenge against us. Since you are to be the survivor of House Ammoure, protect your sister and be sure that she is able to live a happy life. Devote yourself to her service if you must, but just be sure that Livia's death is a natural one." When Antonio felt the quivering grip release his hand, he looked down into his mother's eyes and they exchanged une bise.

Before the next morning, a gunshot had awakened him in the middle of the night. Darting out of bed and pulling on a pair of sweatpants, he sprinted furiously down the hall, and instinctively followed his ear to the source of the gunshot. After a little while he slowed down and found himself face to face with a pretty young blonde with icy blue eyes. Gun in hand she aimed to shoot at him, missed intentionally, and fled while Antonio was down trying to get rid of the burning pain in his eyes. Despite the pain, he blinked until his vision was clear and went dashing through the halls, trying to catch up to the mysterious young lady.

By the time Antonio had reached the front door via a shortcut, the blonde was just coming up the main hall. "Wait," he said. "Who are you, and why are you here?" She stopped and smiled seductively.

"I'm here because this is where I'm supposed to be," she said. "As for my name, that's none of your business. Keep this a secret and perhaps we won't meet again." With that, she lifted her gun slightly and smiled. "Au revoir." She hopped into a black sports car and drove off while Antonio sat there, puzzled as could be.

At the time, Antonio had been attracted and had wanted to see her again. Yet the gun had made him think twice after he saw his mother, killed with one clean shot to the heart. Although she was mostly dead, he could have sworn that she had smiled at him as she drew her last breath. It was sad to see such a kind, gentle woman go because of some assassin scum. Why couldn't God have saved her when the killer was at her door? Sometimes, though, there is a grander scheme to that which God allows to happen. "Are you alright, Antonio?" his sister asked, worried.

"Yes," he replied with a smile, "of course I am." Livia's mouth took on a firm stubborn set as she looked at him with those honey-brown eyes that glimmered in the sunlight.

"You're hiding something," she said accusatorily.

Antonio shook his head and sat down with one knee drawn up to his chest. There was too much time to contemplate things here. When in the cities, there were other people to socialize with, and few of them asked as many questions as Livia. Yet this place was familiar: the beautiful French coast, the serene sound of the waves, and their large beach house, all of them had become a part of Antonio himself. With a heavy sigh, he lay down in the sand and looked up at the clear blue sky, his mind soon drifting toward dreams of his mother.