She looked around the cavern where she stood. There was barely any light; just enough cracks in the ceiling, just enough pale, strangled sunlight straining through to illuminate the gleaming stone floor, glossed and wet from the dripping stalactites from above. The whole cave seemed so huge and hollow, darkness surrounding her on all sides.
Despite having never been there before, she somehow knew that she was not alone.

Cassidy Albright yawned in her sleep, her brow furrowing as she stretched.

"It always watches. They are always watching."

She buried her head into the crook of her arm, seeking further comfort.

"It's always following. They are all always following. Always fast. Always silent."

Her body quivered as a wind leaking from the preparation room window drew across her.

"It is more than what it appears."

Her hands slowly clenched into fists, her thumb binding her fingers and her fingernails digging deep trenches into her palms.

"It is not what it seems."

Her teeth clenched a little, her tongue rubbing against the roof of her mouth.

"But its true form is only revealed when your back is turned."

Cassidy murmured something in her sleep, her forehead creasing.

"Don't look away. Don't blink. Blink and you're dead."

She bit down on her lip, shuddering and her fingers tangling in her hair.

"I am sorry but it is coming for you."

With a snort and a sharp inhale, Cassidy awoke, realising that she had fallen asleep at her work desk for the third time that morning.
She swore under her breath, peeling one of the report sheets from her forehead and sitting up straight. "Ugh…I need more coffee." She yawned, fumbling for the Styrofoam cup and grunting in annoyance when she realised that her pen had burst and was now leaking ink all over the table. "Bite me. Just bite me."
She stretched her arms and turned around, only to the see the angel statue towering behind her.
Right where she had left it.

Cassidy smiled up at the mighty stone seraph, swallowing back another groggy yawn and wiping her eyes. "Right so. I'm going to treat myself to another black coffee and then when I get back here, we can get started on fixing you up a little more."

It was only as she was leaving, that she felt as though she was being watched again.

Cassidy kneeled at the statue's feet, running her gloved hands along the deep and delicate folds of the angel's toga. Her eyes were locked on every inch of flawless, ashen stone as she tirelessly smoothed clear polish all over the stone. She had spent almost all of the morning either bruising her knees or breaking her back trying to restore the statue. It had cracks, crevices and dents in its broad arms from the chains. Not to mention the vast quantity of long jagged fissures that its skin was laden with.
She had worked hard, filling each of the cracks with rock plaster to strengthen the statue and delicately painting over the dried rock with polish and varnish to further protect the statue.

"Afternoon, Cass," Edmund saluted as he wandered into the preparation room. He let out a long whistle. "Ah, our angel mate seems to be looking well, doesn't he?" He chuckled. "I'm impressed. This is good work for a rookie."

"Thanks for your high praise, oh almighty god of restoration," the apprentice muttered tonelessly, not looking up. "Did Dr Hewitt check in with you this morning, Ed? I haven't seen him all day and he's due to call in to see me."

"Hewitt?" Edmund questioned, cocking an eyebrow. "No. He didn't. I thought he would have been with you all morning to sort out this angel exhibit thing."
"So you haven't seen him at all today?"
"No. 'Fraid not."
Cassidy sighed, knitting her brows as she worked on polishing the statue. "It was so weird. He left the museum last night without locking up. He didn't even wait for me."
"No offence, Cass, but you're not exactly the Queen or anything. It's not expected of Hewitt to look after you."
She turned to look up at Edmund, rolling her eyes. "I know that, Ed. I had his keys though. I didn't think he'd leave without those. Had to turn them into the reception desk this morning and when I checked at lunch time, he still hadn't collected them." She sighed. "He just…he just disappeared. I was only away for a second and I didn't even hear him leave. This isn't like Hewitt."
Edmund pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment before waving a hand and shaking his head. "I wouldn't care so much. I mean, I've worked with Hewitt for eight years and he's always been an aloof fellow. Besides, he has that conference thing in Glasgow. Maybe he got called up early or something and had to head up last night…"

"Well supposing that were true, why hasn't he been answering my e-mails? Or why hasn't he called or texted?"
Edmund either chose to ignore the question or he truly didn't give a toss, for he certainly did not answer her. Instead he reached out to pat the wing of the statue. "Well, this thing is looking good."

Quick as a flash, Cassidy swatted his hand away. "No. Don't touch it. It's still drying."
Edmund raised his hands in a quick surrender, biting back a laugh. "Ooh, someone's possessive over her precious statue. Alright, kid, I'll back off and won't lay a hand on Mr Angel here."

"The plaster and varnish are still drying," she retorted. "I don't want you getting your fingerprints all over the statue's surface." Cassidy grimaced. "Curator Stanford would go bonkers again if he found another flawed exhibit on display. Remember the Roman fresco incident?"
In unison, the two museum workers shuddered and Edmund frowned, nodding. "Good point. You're still mad about that angel though."

"W-well, it's my first exhibition project. I really want it to be perfect."
"Whatever you say. It looks better than yesterday anyway. It can go on display soon."
"He can go on display soon. Calling him an "it" makes him sound like a statue of a bug or something."
"Did you think of a better name?"
"Hm?"
"For…the…statue?" Edmund repeated slowly, as if talking to a child.
"Michael."
"Michael? That sounds…commonplace."
Cassidy rolled her eyes. "You ungodly philistine. Michael is supposed to be the name of God's head angel. The archangel, you know? I don't know whether or not this statue was supposed to be of il Archangelo Michaelangelo but the name rather suits him, I think."

"So…you want to name the statue…like the whole exhibit…Michael?" Edmund's eyebrows slowly disappeared up behind his long, pale blonde fringe.
"Yes, that is exactly what I intend to do. I think it's a great name and Hewitt gave this project to me, so I can call the exhibit whatever I want."

Edmund was quiet for a moment. Cassidy couldn't see whether or not he was pulling a face at her or just concocting his next subtle jab at her professionalism but she could feel his eyes on her.
Regardless, she did not take her eyes away from the statue, taking up her soft-bristle brush and using it to delicately dust excess grit and powder from "Michael's" joints and hollows.

"Need a hand?" Edmund finally asked.
"No," Cassidy responded quickly and firmly.
"…do you think maybe you should take a lunch-break?"
"No. I'm fine."
Another moment of tense silence hung between them before disgruntled sounding Edmund finally bid her a farewell and left.

Cassidy sighed, standing up and shaking her head. She gently dusted the bridge of the angel's nose, smiling faintly. "He must think I'm terribly rude…and you must think I'm terribly rude too." She laughed, switching to her fan brush to get some of the smaller pieces of grit. "Just tell me if I'm tickling you." The angel's eyes remained hidden behind his eyes, his lips softly parted and he was silent as ever.
"You're a good listener, Michael, you know that? The pottery I usually talk to normally can't shut the hell up."
Cassidy sighed. "I'll bet you think I'm rude and pathetic now. Well, to rectify one of those points of assumption, I don't always blow Edmund off and I know that he is, admittedly, a rather nice guy." She lightly ran a finger along a line of plaster to make sure that it had hardened sufficiently. "He's just always trying to steal my thunder. I know he's pretending to take interest in you but in reality, as always, he's just annoyed that I'm getting a little more of the spotlight than usual." Her brow furrowed and she found herself automatically resting her forehead against the cool, stone chest of the angel. The statue was much sturdier than she thought it would be. "It's never good enough for him to just have a higher-paid and higher-ranked job than me; he just has to one-up me no matter what we do."
She looked up into the angel's face, imagining that she could see his eyes and that somehow he was smiling at her. "Well, not this time, Michael. This time, I'm in the limelight, this is my project and Edmund Potter is not going to weasel his way into it so that he can take all of the credit."
A slight smirk came to her lips and Cassidy found herself playfully cupping the angel's face and tilting her face upward so that her soft, crinkled pink lips were just centimetres away from the angel's perfectly chiselled, polished grey ones. "And maybe I secretly don't want him anywhere near you because I'm terribly jealous and I just love our alone-time together."

"Albright! What exactly are you doing?"

Cassidy turned with a yelp, dropping her fan brush in shock, only to see Curator Stanford's pinch-faced assistant Sybil Darrow standing behind her.
"M-Miss Darrow…I…I, uh, I…was just…checking the statue for…hairline cracks."

The thin woman wrinkled her nose slightly, her horse-like jaw clenching as she looked down her nose at the younger archaeologist. "Of course you were, Albright." She clicked her tongue, placing a hand on her hip. "Need I remind you that artefacts for display in the museum should not be treated as playthings? Or have your forgotten?"

Cassidy nodded, feeling her neck grow extremely hot as she bent her head. "Y-yes, M-Miss Darrow."
Darrow smirked cruelly, rolling her eyes. "And I'd invest myself less in my work, if I were you, Albright. Some of the staff have noted that you've become rather…obsessive in regards to that statue."

"Fuck you, Edmund Potter," thought Cassidy in both annoyance and utter humiliation, though she stayed quiet and continued to nod like a stupid, little bobble-head.
"I have just come here," Darrow went on. "To notify you that the podium for your exhibit has been cleared. It is on the fourth floor in the second room. You must check it out immediately and fill out a report for Mr Stanford before the unveiling of the statue next week. I would suggest that you do this immediately. I shall await your return and then we can discuss your…evident misconduct." She let out a low snort of laughter. "I shall keep the statue company whilst you are gone, Albright."

"Yes."
This was all Cassidy Albright could muster before leaving the room. She hated that she had no other choice than to abide by Darrow's orders and could not give the slightest of rebukes to her constant chiding. The woman was nothing more than a snooty bully, as far as Cassidy was concerned.
"At least Edmund has his good days when he's not trying to prove he's better than me," she thought glumly, taking the elevator to the fourth floor. "That old cow is perpetually doing everything she can to make me miserable and I've done bugger all to her since I got here."

The exhibition space was actually quite impressive. There was a small podium with steps in front of it that Michael would be displayed upon. It was backdropped by a crimson velvet curtain, crowned by small floodlights and a thin golden plaque was mounted on the wall beside the podium with a blank space for names and dates to be carved.
Cassidy couldn't help but smile, knowing that very soon, her name would be on that plaque and Michael would be on that podium. Then the two of them would be in the spotlight for the whole of the world to admire.

On the way back to the elevator, she heard someone calling out to her.
"Oi, Cass!"
Cassidy turned and grinned to her favourite security guard. "Hi Omar. What's up?"
"Not much," he shrugged and then grinned. "I've heard that you've got an exhibit of your own. A certain angel statue?"
Cassidy felt her face turn pink for the umpteenth time that day. "Ah yes, well…I really hop that its well received. Hewitt entrusted me with a lot and I don't want to let him down."

Omar winked. "No better woman for the job. Hey, just wondering, has anything odd happened to the security cameras in the prep rooms?"
She raised her eyebrows. "No. Not that I'd notice anyway, really. I'm not exactly a tech wiz. Why?"
Omar groaned. "All over the museum, the cameras have been going haywire. Just randomly turning on and off and suddenly getting zapped of all battery power. Darrow came complaining about it this morning and the old nag won't get off my back until I've sorted it out."
"Don't the security staff have any idea what's causing the cameras to go funny? I mean could it just be a glitch in the system or kids fooling around."
"Not a clue. Kids aren't smart enough to pull off something like this and if it were a glitch, the webmaster would have found it by now. And we're not able to get an electrician from the company in until Tuesday. Darrow knows that and she's still being a pain in the ass about it. Typical of her, eh?"

"Yeah, that sounds like Darrow, alright." Cassidy frowned. "Speaking of the devil, she's waiting for me in the preparation room right now."
"Ah, best not keep her waiting so. The old bat might find something else to complain about," Omar grunted, taking out his torch and preparing for his evening shift. "Best of luck with the exhibit, Cass."

"Thanks Omar!" she called over her shoulder as she headed back to the room. "Good luck sorting out the cameras! I'll let you know if I notice anything strange!"

Reluctantly, Cassidy made her way back to the preparation room, taking a deep breath to calm herself before grasping the brass knob and opening the door.
The first thing to strike her was the silence in the room. The complete and total silence.
No clacking of high heels, no tapping of a pen against a clipboard, no impatient tongue clicking.

The first thing that her eyes fell upon was her fan brush.
She could remember dropping the delicate tool at the angel's feet when Sybil Darrow had walked in on her "interactions" with him.
However the brush was no longer at the angel's feet.
It was now resting on the angel's outstretched palm, balancing delicately across the bridge of his thumb. The other arm remained draped across his eyes, apparently shielding his tearful eyes from the world.

Darrow, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Cassidy's mind began to race.
Her first absurd thought was that Darrow was playing some kind of strange practical joke on her, placing her brush in the hand of the angel and then hiding behind a shelf to see her reaction. Taking this into account, the young woman calmly walked into the room and looked around carefully. No one was in the room. No one but her and the angel.
Feeling heavy déjà vu resounding from the night before, Cassidy called out, "Miss Darrow? Hello? Are you there?"
Hadn't she said that she'd wait for her in the preparation room? Or had she said to meet in a different room?

Feeling paranoid and not wanting to allow Darrow to reprimand her twice in one day, Cassidy quickly fumbled for her mobile phone and dialled the assistant curate's number.
She lifted the phone to her ear and waited for the dial tone but then jumped, letting out a cry when she heard a rhythmic vibration from somewhere in the room.

She found Darrow's phone under one of the shelves.
"What the absolute fuck?" Cassidy murmured under her breath, taking up the phone.
How had the phone gotten there?
The phone had slid pretty far back beneath the shelves. There was no way she could have just accidently let it fall under there. It would have had to be kicked or thrown across the floor or would have had to have dropped it in quite a hurry.

Cassidy swallowed, slowly rising and placing the phone on the work-table.
"Maybe she'll come back for it later…"
She took a few more deep breaths, carefully soothing herself as her mother had conditioned her to, whenever she felt any kind of anxiety.
Chiding aside, Cassidy decided, if Darrow really wanted to talk to her about something, surely she'd come looking for her in the preparation room after a few minutes had passed?

Deciding that this was the best option for the moment, Cassidy took a quick swig from the water-bottle on her desk and set about cleaning up her things. She wandered back over to the statue and delicately took the brush from his outstretched hand. She was still in deep confusion about why Darrow would have put it there in the first place.

"Thank you," she said softly, smiling a little as she placed it aside. "You're such a gentleman, picking that up for me."
Exhaling and finally allowing her heart-rate to steady, Cassidy placed the brush aside and back into her leather archaeologist's wallet.
"I can just stay here until eleven and wait for her to get back. That's when the guards change so she should be back by at least then," she told herself. "And if she doesn't come back…" She looked to the statue with another slight smile. "…at least I can say that I spent the evening doing something worthwhile."

Cassidy dipped the sponge back into the bucket, letting the warm, soapy water soak back up into the pores and enjoying the heat of the water as it lapped against her skin.

She had been kneeling in front of the statue for almost two hours now. She washed the stone with the greatest care, scrubbing away at every last inch of hardened grit, grime and dirt. She worked her hands to the bone, her wrists aching and the soft pads of her fingers, wrinkling.
Yet she did not stop for a moment.
Her knees hurting and her back strained, she finally managed to bring herself to stand. She massaged the warm water into the angel's form, trying her hardest to make the stone shine.
Cassidy couldn't explain it but the statue was starting to look better, stronger and almost, healthier.

"A lot of people are going to see you on display tomorrow, Michael. Don't worry though. They'll all be blown away by how stunning you look. In a week's time, we'll also be hosting a big ceremony and throwing a big party to celebrate you coming to us here in the museum."

She smiled, glad that her work was starting to pay off already.
She switched to a soft rag in order to work on Michael's softer, facial details like the perfect curves of his lips, nose and his extremely detailed fingers.
The artist had even gone as far as to carve the individual shapes of the finger bones beneath the skin, knuckles and fingernails.

"If I only I knew who carved you," Cassidy whispered, gingerly cleaning the bridge of his nose. "You're so realistic…and such a mystery."
She felt something strange wash over her as she looked into the face of the angel- a kind of extreme reverence and fear mixed with a terrible sense of longing.
She felt herself shudder. It was as though part of her wanted to run away from the statue as quickly as possible and the other part wanted to never look away from it.
It was only after she had washed the statue twice further and dried the stone with a heat rod that she finally managed to tear her eyes away from it and to lock up for the night.

Darrow never came looking for her.

In the darkness of the preparation room and not under the direct sight of any living creature, he found himself free to move again.
Free from the effects of the quantum lock.
His evolution-enhanced eyes sliced through the shadows and he flexed his fingers, feeling his epidermal stone become flesh once more.
He moved to the door, lighting tapping the handle with a single finger to see that it was locked.

He was not trying to escape.
If he had wanted to escape, he could have done that last night. He could have smashed through the door had he wanted to or he could have easily shattered every window in the room to facilitate his leaving.
However, this was not necessary.

After devouring the old male human's years, he had contemplated leaving and relishing his newfound freedom.
It was insulting and infuriating to think that the humans thought they could imprison in this "gallery of curios" of sorts and rage boiling beneath his skin, he was about to escape.

But then, a truly evil idea entered his mind.

Remaining in this place gave him infinite access to humans.
Humans who would walk willingly into the compass of his predatorial needs.
Feeding off of the older female that day had been proof of that.

His kind had long primed themselves to go long periods of time without eating. One meal every few months was usually a normal diet. As such, the promise of a steady stream of victims each day seemed a tantalising prospect.

And the little female human.
Oh his young human girl.

How she entertained him.

He had initially been eager to take her life years.
Such a young, healthy child with a promising life, she was.

Soon, though, his intentions for her had slowly grown more and more malicious.
Like all of his kind and most of the wider galaxy, he regarded humans as nothing more than greedy, self-glorified vermin- only good for food and sadistic entertainment.

Yet this human seemed to worship him simply for existing.
She did not stare at him in unblinking fear but in naïve and childish wonder. She was like his personal slave. She washed him, she repaired the cracks in his stone skin, her presence brought him so many good meals.
Her circle of friends alone seemed to be tempting menu, not to mention these "lots of other people" she had promised to bring him.

She was a neverending source of entertainment too.
Her constant, bubbly chatter was pathetically amusing.
What had she recently dubbed him? Michael, was it not?
Her skittering around, awkwardness and occasional clumsily worded rambles were nothing short of hilarious.
Her ignorance of the danger she was in was particularly, deliciously comical.

It partly disgusted him, but he also quite enjoyed her touch and the way she was eternally fussing about his wellbeing.

None of his kind, in the history of their species had ever had a slave human.
A pet human.

The evil thought had grown in his already malevolent mind and soon he was firmly set upon this scheme.

"Oh yes, Cassidy Albright," he thought, smirking and revealing his sharply curved fangs as he ran his fingers over the leather wallet of brushes that she had left on the table. He remembered the way she had shyly taken the brush from his hand. His little mouse was always in such awe of him- even if she did not yet know a thing of his true powers. His thoughts had truly dissolved into the very depths of the dark and the depraved and he snarled hungrily, thinking of their delightful future together.
"I will soon possess you child. In mind. In soul. And in body."