Author's Note: Per requested, this is a sequel to "The Line Between Shadow and Love". However, if you haven't read that story yet, no worries, this one could still stand alone. This fic is darker than the previous one and there are going to be some very tragic situations. The pair is most obviously Cath/Sara. As of now, I'm not sure if I'll be introducing any more pairing. Most possibly, I might include the Gil/Lady Heather pair I had vaguely touched on in the previous story.
I don't write anything that graphic, be it sex, violence or language. But for the darkness and the slash pairing, I'll rate it R according to the MPAA system.
The story deals with issues like the same sex marriages, assassinations, explosions, etc. If all these topics offend you, then please give this a skip. Though, as mentioned above, I don't write anything overtly graphic.
And coming to the reading and reviewing part, any and all kinds of comments are appreciated. If there are any mistakes, please point them out to me. Same goes for plot inconsistencies or misuse of legal/social/medical/forensic procedures.
And, ah, as someone pointed them to me... I use some "phrases" or "expressions" which are kinda hard to understand. I apologize for my multi-culture-isms > a product of having stayed in many countries and not completely absorbing any one culture... bah!
Now, that I have consumed a lot of your time... let's proceed, shall we?
Prologue
The light from the fireplace danced in his Bourbon. From the other room, he could hear the keys of the piano move under gentle hands. Often a note would go offbeat but would be quickly corrected. His wife was teaching their daughter how to play Mozart's Concerto No. 21.
He leisurely looked at Botticelli's Primavera hung over the fireplace. One of his clients had presented him this original in lieu of his efficient services. Several such "gifts" adorned his house.
Beauty fascinated him. Not so much because of his academic understanding of them but because of a purely basic curiosity for them. Beauty was beauty and yet he knew how fragile it was. Ugliness had stability whereas beauty didn't. It easily faded, worn out, destroyed or disappeared.
He glanced at the snapshot lying carelessly on the Mahogany desk in front of him. He picked it up and studied it. Long blonde tresses, piercing blue eyes, sharp features that could almost be termed aristocratic and outlined pale lips. He cocked his head and felt a pang of sympathy for the woman. That she was physically attractive, there was no doubt. But the angle of her chin suggested a woman who wouldn't put up with any shit. The eyes sparkled with intelligence as well as a flirtatious glint. She knew the effect she had on others and wasn't fazed by it.
Very soon, that flawless skin would be a victim to the licking tongues of fire. Those brilliant blue eyes would have nothing in them but fear as it senses being consumed by death. Beauty and brains, all would reduce to nothing but dust and ashes.
He sighed and finished his drink. Then he stood up and walked to the next room. His daughter looked up and smiled at him.
