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Prologue

"I need to catch my breath! I have to press on! Ouch!" Running up the stairs she crashes against the side of the wall. "My shoulder is going to be sore. I'm going to be sore! If (straining her voice and moving up the stairs) I don't get my ass up these stairs and onto higher ground, I’m toast. Time! So little of it, or so much. It all depends on the way or method from which we choose to exist. (she focuses on the next step) Got to control my breathing. Ouch! (she crashes against the next wall) That is really going to bruise. Shit! They're behind me! I can tell by the expensive noises their cheap shoes make. Or can it be the rattling of their clothes? I can't believe that I can actually hear that! They must be two flights behind me, I bet. Still I have to press on!”

“There it is!" Her eyes focus on the door ahead. “That should be my way out.” Her opposite shoulder crashes against the door, forcing it open.

"Good! That gives the other shoulder a rest." The fresh breeze cools the burning sensation against the surface of her so recently scraped and bruised skin. Quickly she walks to the edge of the roof, directly in front of the doorway. Her dark outline is an obscured silhouette against the city lights and its horizon. The raindrops fall like heavy pellets against her shoulder and pools underneath her feet, soaking them as the water seeps in through the seams of her shoes. She stands motionless, waiting for the enemy to reach her. Turning around, her eyes set focus on the doorway she has just exited. The sounds of footsteps echo more clearly. The falling rain striking against her skin is warmer than she expected. Trailing down her face, the rain sooths the abrasions now etched crimson streaks, shining badges of her battle up the stairs. The rain rolls down her long western raincoat. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she takes a moment to herself, calming herself and reeducating her emotion.

The two men in pursuit push their combined weight against the odd metal door. Tired bodies pushing against the dark metal door force their appearance out into the open. Unable to clearly focus and nearly out of breath, they stagger (one to the left the other to the right) reaching for cover against the doorway. Their backs strike the brick wall breaking their momentum. Panting, they sneak quick glances around the edges of the brick structure. Panting, they gasp for air and try to arrest the silence.

"Edgar Allen Poe,” her voice quickly speaks, “Said that if you want to hide something effectively, you lay it in the most obvious place." Between the falling pellets of rain, they try seeking out the origin of the voice with no luck. She takes aim. Fires! One of the men doubles over and falls to the ground. "Death to the man on the right." She says almost in a playful manner (lightening). The second man's pistol fires a round, hoping to hit near what he thought was her silhouette. The sound of a small rocket echoes into the hollow of her ear, missing her by a close distance. She takes sight. She fires once again. Her bullet strikes the last man. His expression denotes a severe loss of stamina.

"I guess I have the better aim." She says coyly watching the man's hand lose its grip on the pistol. For the moment he is surprised that he is still alive. His eyes travel over to his partner's corpse lying motionless in a puddle. For the moment his expressions read of doubt. "Make no mistake there little man. You live for the moment at my appeal." Bending his knees and sliding his feet outward, he attempts to hold himself against the coarse unforgiving wall. The drops of rain clinging to his face become warmer as they mix with his sweat. The feeling of nausea comes in waves: a burning sensation boiling the pit of his stomach, he fights the shock. He vomits. With saliva stringing unevenly from his mouth, he wrestles with consciousness to slowly form words.

"Who are you?" He asks. His voice is raspy, but she finds charm in his accent.

"Do you really want to know? And with this question answered, will you rest easy where it is that dead humans go?" Walking towards him, her manicured fingers remove her jacket. "Let me shelter you from the rain. I know that I can do at least that. I can see by your face that you are sincere (she cleans his face). Let me explain. I owe you that much since we are from the same cause." The drops of rain create a spectrum of rainbow colors as they roll off of her skin-tight suit. Reaching down she takes a fist of the jacket she has used to shelter him. Seemingly with little effort, she drags the limp body to the edge of the building. The man remains silent for the moment, as he watches the small stars pulse randomly on her suit.
"I sit upon hills of windows, high above cities. I watch the young humans within their man made vehicles drive the streets. (She looks down onto the street). I can tell they’re young by the way they drive. Experienced minds know well how to maneuver. As for myself what can I say? I watch carefully, as I have all of my life. My Profession makes me see things that I perhaps shouldn't. Nonetheless, here I am with you. (The wind plays with her long coat and she takes notice.)

It is dark tonight and though darkness fills the air, the moon's radiance caresses the outline of the rain clouds. "This is my curse, or my blessing. When I attended public schools, the teachers would tell me that the world was what ever I made of it." (The man coughs.)

"My teachers said the same." He smiles attempting to disguise the pain. "What if the world gave me lemons? Wouldn't you know it?"

"There is a bumper sticker for that. I believed that it reads- 'If life gives you lemons, make lemonade.' The same day I saw another bumper sticker. This time it was on the back of a tractor-trailer: 'If you don't like my driving, call 1 800 EAT SHIT! Yes! (she places her hand on the dying man's head) Humanity, in all its rich and powerful ways, is most definitely the being with the most incompetence. Have a bad hair day? Didn't get enough fries with that shake? Guy stood you up? Kill'em. Then flee. Then get caught or turn yourself in - whichever. It doesn't matter, because most of you humans don't understand the importance of humanity. Then say ‘I'm sorry’. Damn the ignorant bastards! Damn them all!

"If I were God, I could see the interest with such retards! They are in constant need of attention. But I don't know. You tell them how to live correctly. You show them that certain things make sense? And they still screw up. Perhaps I'm too young. (she looks around her) I won't kill you. At least not till morning. Take this time to thank God for the splendid and fullness of the life you have received. Ah yes! Morning. Come you, daylight! (she calls out at the world) And touch the flesh of my kind, once more! Perhaps I will not welcome you this time! Perhaps I shall become what is necessary to keep these pests of humans alive!"

She passes the cuff of her sleeve past her mouth, wiping the moister from her mouth. She kneels down and places one hand near the edge of the top of the building. She overlooks the view below. "You just don't understand. Do you? And even if I made you understand, you still wouldn't understand. Would you?"

"Try me," says the dying man. "Let me live til morning." He repeats his plea again trying to bring himself closer to consciousness, fighting the waves of nausea and the chilling tremors of shock from the trauma his body feels. The wound has gone numb, but he is strangely aware of her words, her presence, understanding somewhere deep within himself, almost instinctually, who she is and the importance of her words.

"Sure friend. As I said previously, I shall not let you die just yet." She reassures him. "First! Go easy on yourself. You did as you thought to be your own will. You will know hell soon enough. (she places her hand on his wound) Questions? (she presses down) An eternity of them. But their answers are very scarce. Should I decide to continue my life like a human? Then I would have an abundance of opportunities. I mean I- I- I- could be a kind person that is kind to animals. I could be a psycho killer. No! Better yet! I could be a psycho killer that kills psycho killers. (they both laugh) Or I could be a Vampire! Like my mother." (the dying man reaches up to her for a better view) "Then I could have the responsibilities of saving the world from the few sorcerers and creatures left."

"My God! The world's most feared and respected professional assassin is kin to a Vampire?" He catches his breath beneath his throbbing pain. “You are real? How?”

"Save your breath. (she places her finger gently against his lips) Where did this all begin? Hmm? Shit! (she rubs her forehead then lowers it) I know what Father Markus has told me. And whatever I can scavenge from fading memories." She pushes herself closer to the edge of the building. "The world is a funny place today. In our search for freedom, our individual freedom, life has become more of a slavery. Somehow I knew it would lead to this, but I wasn’t prepared to find a darker side of truth. I'm so confused. My head swirls with thoughts and thoughts of thoughts. It fills with questions and questions of questions. (she sighs) The world has changed so much. In our reach for personal freedoms and personal goals, the world somehow lost its sight of what truly holds it together.

"During the last years science has broken through new boundaries- new truths. They found a man that talks to horses, this in 1997, the Titanic was discovered earlier there after, the discovery of Astro-Projections found between dogs and their masters. Amazing it has been to your kind that a dog could know when their masters were returning. Lasers were being used in medicine. And the most popular of all was when scientist created the perfect clone of a sheep. The media pulled the world together, and through its electronic channels there was a massive overload of information. All of it stored on individual silicon chips scattered throughout the planet like weeds for the picking. Animal Research in Telepathic fields became the craze before the millennium.

"Then strange happenings occurred as reality churches took control of humankind’s faith.

"Mysteriously, the airways suffered unexplainable plane crashes, both civilian and military.

"All because your kind could not understand that the balance of the universe is within individual lives. Humanity stopped believing in itself and forgot that certain strengths that balance the world are within the souls of individual beings. This side of the truth was left untouched by scientists as they paraded with their infantile discoveries.

"The media misled humanity. The ability to communicate with creatures and the understanding that they also had feelings and emotions that were predictable of their nature was insignificant compared to the other side of truth, the dark side of truth. The truth from which I am now born.

"Many religious leaders have tried to convince the world not to pursue the new scientific route, but their voices have long been diminished and replaced by the Sect of Reality Churches. The church cultivates, and then harvests their ignorance and fear. They have lost their majestic hold of society and are now ignored, politely set aside from the scientific rule.

"Further tragedy struck while also in 1997, the Princess of London, Diana Windsor (once of Spencer) died in a fatal car accident. It seems that photojournalists, for the love of their money gods, created and participated in a high-speed chase that ended in this tragedy. What was she hiding? Mortals and their secrets! (she shakes her head) She was one of the keys holding the locks that would help prevent the spread of evil.

"But tragedy struck the heart of heaven when the never yielding Mother Teresa died, failed of health in her old age. With characters such as these dead and no one to take their places, the locks were being twisted open for Evil to spread.” Placing her hands on the edge of the roof, she sits. Dragging the man closer to her, she places his head on her lap. He is speechless. “Evil! Not creatures mind you, for I am a creature and I'm not evil.

"Forget my face and forget my hair, forget even my faith, my religion, my fangs, and see my heart- for within the heart and soul is where Evil lives. (her calves lean and swing, by the cliff of the building) Silly Mortals! Silly man.” She looks at the dying man, inspecting his vital signs. “They, with their bumper stickers. How easily they've taken the value of life and exchange it for paper currency and worthless coins. Now the world hangs in the balances of truth and the dark side of truth. Little does man understand that the Truth is not what it seems and to live they must know and understand the darker half."

"The Dark Side of Truth." He says as if knowledgeable.

“Silly humans! To think I could be like them. Truthfully, I'm glad I'm not! Their social realities and religious barriers do not bind me. Nonetheless I will stay here til dawn by your side and think things through. I will someday write this story allowing for survivors to understand. But for now? I shall share this with you in case you meet with my father when I kill you at first morning’s light.”

"Where did this begin? My mind is weak. These finger-cut knitted gloves can barely keep my fingers alive, while I lay here on this rooftop half sheltered from the rain,” he says looking down at his hands soaking in his own blood. She reaches into her vest pocket. Pushing the man under an overhang, she shelters him from the rain.

She leans back, relaxing her shoulder on the roof. Her eyes, wide open, never even bat at the falling raindrops. A grin debuts across her fleshy face. She chuckles as the clouds roll and drop heavier rain."

"Well human, it started in the beginning of time, but for my purposes France, 1987 Strasbourg.”

“My name is Patrick.”

Leaning towards, she searches for the wound and places the neon blue stick against it. “It seems, Patrick, that a few naturals, that is what my mother is, had been placed in secret hiding by a fellow French Priest. (the neon light rubs against the wound preventing further hemorrhaging) He was one of the last seekers of the truth. He sought the Dark Side as well as the common side of truth. For decades they were underground waiting to be awakened. For they had knowledge of that which could change the fate of the humankind as well as the fate of the world. They waited for someone to remove the soil that was burying them. The priest who held their secret was destroyed." (Her voice changes to that of an eerie story teller.)

“Go on, I’m listening.” He says to her, feeling slightly more comfortable.

“This was given to me to know, that among the world of the living, the world of souls and the world of angels, there was yet another society, thought to have disappeared along with the unicorns, fairies, goblins and ghouls. Holy Men never recorded this species. At least not accurately, since they were changed during the war.

"The war I refer to is the one started in heaven. The angels of God and those of Lucifer challenged each other for power and understanding, for love. Just where did this war become sour? Neither man nor creature can answer. As a result of this war many of the celestial creations were removed. We know that the serpent that spoke to Eve was changed and demised to slither the world instead of walking upon it.

"Among these creatures like these were winged creatures and like angels, they would populate the sky. Their wingspan accented the clouds, and all creatures lending them sight would remember God, their creator. And life was simple then.

"Then came man, and man was good. At least for a time. But the war in heaven raged and earth, with its life, was threatened unknowingly. The angels came down and fought to remove the winged creatures, but it was too late. Eve and Adam had already taken from the tree of knowledge and poisoned the world.

"The winged creatures fought for their right to exist. Unknown to me the results I can only say this... God found mercy and took their wings.

"Because of their anger towards man, they were banished for a time that was only known to man. Their only hope was for their children to prove to God that their love was as pure in intent as that of man's.

"But like man, there was corruption, and the once Angelica mimes rebelled against man. And thus war was created between them and man. The legend grew of men that would come during dark nights, as mist brought death to those who had souls.

"But this story is not about their rage against humanity or for the terrene powering for the essence. This is the tale of a creature's soul and a sole creature discovering the forgotten sense of love."