Another day, another chapter.

Here it is.

Enjoy.

Lightning flashed as the door opened and the man entered the bar dripping wet. He slumped against the counter and waved over the bartender. Leaning in, he mumbled his order and the bar tender nodded and hurried away to get it. On of the men sitting further down the bar looked at him. Outside, the rain pounded the roof and thunder cracked.

"Louis?" He said with a gruff, throaty voice of concern. "What in the hell happened to you? You're as pale as flour. What's going on out there?"

The man gasped and took the drink the bartender held out to him. He gulped down the alcohol, wiped his mouth with his sleeve and gave the other man a ragged look. His eyes were bloodshot as though he'd been running for most of the night.

"Hell is right. I saw them!" He managed to croak.

"Them?" The other frowned. "Who is 'them?"

"L'ange et le diable!"

The crowded bar, normally full of casual mutterings and low conversation suddenly slipped into silence.

The companion's eyes grew wide.

"L'ange et le diable? Mon Dieu. Sit down, sit down, and tell us what happened out there." He motioned to the bartender and had him bring over another round. "I'll pay for it. Now tell, tell!"

The man took a look, deep drink and sighed. He coughed and then began his narrative.

"I was going to visit my mother, as I do quite often as you know of evenings, what with her rheumatism. It happened along the road side; I was there and saw all of it. I was taking Madeline, my old horse, and I was going down the old road by the mill. When we got to the mill, just past the bridge, the storm was already going pretty good.

A horse was stalled there, in the ditch on the side of the road. A tall figure was trying to coax the horse out of the ditch while there was a smaller figure situated on the back. Though he was talking in a voice that was low and quiet… that Voice! Such a Voice as you've never heard in all your lives mes amis.

I slowed down, sure that it had to be them! But just at that time, out of the darkness, a group of men emerged. They demanded the horse and money. Seemed to find it amusing, two people so young traveling out on their own. I couldn't see much, but there were rifles and knives…

Then the Voice laughed. But it wasn't he who moved; no it was the smaller… I sat there frozen, watching it unfold… When he jumped the hood fell from his head and he had such hair, like spun gold. He was so young too, couldn't have been much more than seven! But the way he whirled around it was though he was a man possessed! Flashes of blades sprang from nowhere; he spun so fast the men could hardly see… Cries of pain filled the night and there was a sudden whinny as the other mounted the horse.

The horse reared and in a flash of lightning I saw his face… everything gone! The men ran and the other joined the Voice, the one with the impossible face of a corpse, no nose and sunken eyes… The other was so much younger, like a little seraph with gold hair and blood all over his cloak.

The Voice spoke to me.

'You will not hinder us, monsieur.'

And with that… they were gone."

The men remained silent for a moment until one of them broken the silence with the question that all were wondering.

"So… which is the Angel and which the Devil?"

Raoul lifted up the blanket and was about to crawl into bed when he heard Erik's Voice behind him. He froze and looked around sheepishly.

"Erik?" He said with a smile.

"Raoul," said Erik carefully, "What have I told you about sleeping with knives?"

The boy looked down and mumbled a response.

"What was that?"

"That I shouldn't do it because I could get stabbed in my sleep."

"That's right. Now Raoul, be honest. Are you sleeping with any weapons?"

He hesitated.

"Maybe…"

"Take them off now, please."

Raoul sighed and started to pull an assortment of pointed objects from various places in his multilayered clothing. They were on the road so he hadn't bothered to get fully undressed and thus had seemingly endless folds and pockets from which to withdraw them. As he took out each one he placed them on the bedside table next to him which was rapidly filling up.

"But Erik, what if I have to do something during the night? What if someone tries to rob us again?"

"The table is quite close enough to reach. I'm more worried about you turning over and injuring yourself."

"You don't have to worry!" He said, removing the last one and sitting down on the bed with a pout. "I'm good at this! I know what you told me about hiding things…"

Erik sat down on the bed next to him and kissed his forehead.

"I'm your older brother. It's my job to worry about things like this." Then he cast a baleful glance at the table. "Raoul, how many of those things are you carrying with you?"

He shrugged, doing his best to look nonchalant.

"I'm not sure… lost count…"

Erik sighed.

"I thought we agreed on no more than ten, Raoul. I'm counting thirteen just sitting here. Now how many were you hiding?"

Raoul paused then sighed.

"Eighteen."

"EIGHTEEN!" Erik gasped. "There is no possible reason why on earth you would need that many!"

"But some of them are small!" Raoul protested. "And some of them are made for throwing and I can't get those back all the time…"

"Eighteen. Raoul, what am I going to do with you?"

The boy gave him a winning smile.

"Tell me a story and then stay here for the night?"

"There are two beds, Raoul, there's no need…"

"I know. But I like having you close by!"

"Raoul…"

"I know! But… just this once?"

"OK. What story would you like to hear?"

"Something new. And long."

"Something new and long. Well, that's a fairly tall order, young man. But I think I know a story that might just do the trick…"

The evening wore on and Raoul fell asleep to the tale of a young man named Ivan and a little humpbacked horse.

The sun coming over the horizon gradually illuminated the room and Raoul wasted no time in springing out of bed, splashing his face with water and refitting himself with the blades he'd collected over the years. Each dagger had a story, each knife a tale, and all of them had been spattered with blood at least once. The boy hadn't killed… yet. And while he only ever drew out of self-defense, Erik worried about him.

The roads were dangerous and the two lone boys were frequent targets. Since that first time, Raoul saw the value of learning how to handle a blade and learned, at first in secret but then later blatantly, to throw and wield them with expertise. He practiced until his body was trim and used his height to his advantage, adding it with speed and agility to make himself a quick and small figure, impossible to pin down. Most people didn't expect a child to fight, which worked out to their advantage; such people were more surprised, more willing to run.

As he replaced the last of them, he joined Erik outside. The older teen had already fitted the horse and was waiting in the wan light of dawn.

"Come along, sleepy," he teased lightly.

The boy flushed just slightly.

"I got up in plenty of time!" He responded, climbing back on to the horse. "Where are we headed?"

"The Italian border."

The boy sighed.

"It was nice to be back in France though. Spain was OK… But I'm going to miss France."

Erik swallowed and nodded.

"I shall miss it too. And perhaps we shall return, after a time. But for now… it is not good for us to stay here."

"Why?"

He didn't tell the boy but the rumors going around were not good. Word was bound to travel far, perhaps even reach the ears of those from whom they had escaped. That would not do. Yet he did not wish to frighten the boy unnecessarily – or give any unneeded clues to a dim, semi-forgotten past.

"There's not enough opportunity here, and it's getting too familiar," He replied in a half-truth. "Besides, don't you want to see what Italy is like? It's a new place! An adventure!"

He'd hit upon the right words to say. Raoul's face lit up with excitement at the prospect of a thrilling escapade.

"Yeah! So where will we be going?"

Erik shrugged and spurred the horse forward.

"Here and there. Venice, Naples… Rome, the Vatican perhaps. Lovely architecture everywhere and very good wine as well. Not as good as some of the Loire valley vintages, but still – something to try. There's good food too."

Raoul nodded, though he knew that Erik would probably find more to enjoy in Italy than he would. 'Architecture' meant that they would spend endless hours, meandering and looking at buildings, Raoul staring while Erik explained the history behind each one and made mental notes about how each was build and decorated.

Even so, he could make his own fun. Something exciting always happened when he and Erik went somewhere. As they went along the road following the coast, he thought of something.

"Erik – Venice is a city on water, right?"

"Yes, it is."

"Can we take a ride in a gondola when we get there?"

He laughed.

"A gondola?"

"Yes!"

"Perhaps. But why the sudden interest in that, of all things?"

Raoul made an indifferent noise.

"I don't know… Just that ever since you described them I've wanted to ride in one."

Erik nodded.

"Very well then. You shall have your gondola ride."

It was very early in the morning when Giovanni saw them. He'd woken up for the express purpose of being alone and yet there they were; two figures sitting about in the dawn's radiance.

The taller one seemed to be examining the site, touching the stones and looking about, as if determining whether or not he should give it his approval. The other, much smaller, was going from stone to stone, playing about as if dancing to a tune that only he could hear.

The absorbed nature of the first kept him from noticing much and Giovanni's eyes were fixed on his curious behavior. He didn't notice the second slip away and it wasn't long before he felt a pricking at his back.

"Why," asked a high, young voice, "Are you watching my brother and me, monsieur? I should hope you do not mean us mischief…"

So, as you can tell, time has passed. And here were see the bit of Kay's book enter in to the picture. Hope you enjoyed. More updates to come – and hopefully they'll be soon.

All reviews welcome. :)