"The american people are slow to wrath, but when we do, that
wrath burns like an all-consuming flame."
Angelika was dying in flame and blood. The bodies of her
slaughtered husband and daughter were strewn on the ground like
discarded play-things. Angelika used the last of her strength to
slam a bat into their murderer's head, but he simply batted the
thing away like a tiger bats away a kitten. The weapon flew from
her grasp, and he grabbed her arm, twisting it cruelly and
shattering it. Angelika screamed, but it was not a scream of
pain. It was a scream of hate, of frustration that she could not
take her family's killer with her to the grave. Her eyes
reflected such hate as seldom a mortal creature has ever seen,
such that it even chilled the vampire, ever so slightly. He
stared into her hate burning eyes, waiting for her to die, but
even as her body faded, those hate-burning eyes remained on his
face. He twisted his bloodstained mouth into a cruel smile. "Such
a fighter. Such spirit I would never have expected of a mortal,
much less a housewife. What a warrior you would make. A pity I
can't change you. You would make an excellent vampire." Angelika
glared at him, and snarled with what little breath she had left
as her lungs filled slowly with blood. "Buh-buh-burn in hell-l,
vuh-vuh-vampire-er." She snarled. The words stammered, but the
tone did not. The vampire sneered at the dying woman. "Ladies
first," He snarled, and left Angelika to die as the house burned
down. Angelika felt her lungs fill slowly with blood. She refused
to fade, refused to surrender. Even so, her consciousness slowly
faded out, failing her just as her body had failed her. She lay
there, waiting for death, though she fought it with every ounce
of will she had.
But it was not death that found Angelika that bloodstained night.
~~~~Four Years Later
Angelika sat on the cafe table, watching the city. She could
barely contain her excitement. They'd finally found him. After
years of searching, she'd tracked him here. She was finally about
to get her revenge. She turned to the sable-brown haired man
balancing two coffees and doughnuts on a tray. He was skinny and
tall, looking much like a gold-eyed scarecrow. Or a beanpole.
"C'mon, Mitch! Hurry, will you?" Michael rolled his eyes. "He's
not going to run while we drink our coffee, Ang, so take a chill
pill. It's been four years, you can wait four minutes." Angelika
made an impatient sound. "I'm tired of waiting, Mitch. Let's go
after him now, forget the coffee." She pushed eagerly, eyes fever
bright with excitement. Michael sighed. "Not that simple, Ang.
He's strong. He'll tear you to pieces. Like last time." Michael
reminded her. Angelika ground her teeth together at the memory.
"It's different now," She snarled. "I'm a vampire now. Stronger
and faster. And I've got you with me too, right? Two vampires
against one? He doesn't stand a chance." Michael rolled his eyes
again. "Precisely why I'm in charge, kid. Without me you'd be
staked by now." Angelika rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You act
like I'm your kid. I could go off on my own; you're the one
tagging along." She said. Michael shook his head. "Exactly why I
come along. I don't think my conscience could take it if I let
you run off on this suicide mission alone and I found you dead in
the gutter somewhere. We're a team, Ang, no matter what crazy
stuff you run off to do." Angelika rolled her eyes yet again, but
felt grateful. Mitch had done so much for her. He was a great
friend. Not only had he saved her life by turning her into a
vampire, but he had nursed her back to health, and then mentored
her in vampire fighting and come on this mission for her. He was
annoyingly cautious and adverse to conflict, but you couldn't get
a better friend than Michael, fangs and all.
Angelika remembered all four grueling years in livid detail. She
remembered turning into a vampire, the stitches and bandages and
potions and magics it had taken to fix her even with the vampire
venom running through her veins. It had taken two years, even as
a vampire, to heal fully, and another year to get over the
stiffness in her muscles. She felt muscle pains still,
occasionally, when working her body really hard. And she would
always carry the silvery scars that criss-crossed her body. For
four years, Angelika had hunted for the vampire that had killed
her family, so she could track him down and kill him.
"You know, you don't have to do this," Michael said for about the
hundredth time. "Yes I do, Mitch, now stop saying that," She
snapped. "The bastard killed my man and my baby, and I'm gonna
rip him limb from limb for that," She said, eyes fever bright
with hate. Michael sighed, looking at her. "I worry about you
sometimes. This guy's no small fry, Ang, he's powerful. More
powerful than me. Maybe even you. Do your muscles still get
stiff?" He asked. "No," Angelika said, a little to fast. "Ang,"
Michael said warningly. "Only a little when I'm really pushing
it," She admitted grudgingly. "But only a little bit. And not
that much." Michael looked at her hard. "This isn't a small
thing, Angelika. If one of your muscles freezes up or gives out
in battle, you'll die. "Angelika sighs."Michael, it's not
that bad. My body's strong. I don't need to wait any longer,
and I won't." Michael looked away. "I hope you're right." He
said. Angelika punched him lightly on the shoulder. "You're such
a worrier," She said. Michael shoved her back lightly, "Someone
has to be. You certainly don't worry enough so I guess I gotta do
it for you." He got up. "Well, let's go scout, I guess. There'll
be no rest with your eyes burning for blood," He said. It was one
of the things that set Angelika apart. Ever since he dragged her
out of the burning house, he had seen the fire in her eyes, the
way they turned fever-bright with wrath. It scared him sometimes.
Michael and Angelika roamed through the streets. Angelika seemed
to be looking at everything, memorizing its place. "You look like
a bloodhound on a trail," Michael remarked. "I am on a trail."
"I know." Michael said.
Angelika was agitated. "Were is he s'posed to be?" She asked
"West side of town. There's a coven over there. We need to be
careful; if he's in with them we might need to be patient."
"I'm tired of being patient." Angelika snarled bad-temperedly.
She was like a police dog tugging at its leash to get the
criminal, then growling at the handler who held it back. She
wouldn't rest until she tasted his blood in her mouth. Michael
touched her shoulder gently. "Easy, Angel." He said. Angelika
loosened a bit at the sound of his stupid pet name for her, but
didn't soften. She was impatient for vengeance.
Angelika and Michael came up with a simple, straightforward plan:
question one of the vampires in the area about the one they were
seeking. A lone coven member approached by two vampires in some
dark alley would much, much rather talk then risk a fight.
Angelika and Michael waited for hours at an alley near the
coven's lair before some unsuspecting vampire wandered across
their path. It was a young vampire, under two years. Not
someone's fledgling anymore, but not quite experienced enough to
survive well on there own. Michael and Angelika came out of the
darkness, blocking off escape. The fledgling froze, eye wide. He
hadn't even sensed them in the slightest. Angelika smirked.
Clumsy fledgling, didn't your master teach you right? She
thought. "Hello," Michael said. "You belong to this coven near
here, correct?" He asked politely. The fledgling looked at him,
leery. Even a bumbling vampire like this fledgling could tell
Michael was the oldest vampire out of the two, and typically in
vampire culture, the older the vampire, the more powerful.
"We are looking for a certain vampire," Michael continued, "With
which we have a score to settle. Could you perhaps give us the
information we need?" Although the tone was perfectly polite and
friendly, the words were not. In vampire lingo 'a score to
settle' meant you were out to seriously hurt someone. The words
were a threat; you don't mess with a vampire with a score to
settle. "Who're you lookin' for?" The fledgling asked warily.
"A vampire by the name Malvient," Michael said. "Heard of him?"
The fledgling looked at Michael. "Malvient? Sure. He's hanging
round my coven." the fledgling said. "Is he under protection?"
Michael asked. "No," The fledgling said. "Our coven doesn't
protect loners, especially not loners with vendettas against
"If he's attacked, will anyone side with him?" Michael asked. The
fledgling seemed to think about this question. "Maybe," He said.
"Lilit might. She likes him. But she'd be the only one. He's not
very nice." the fledgling remarked. Angelika had to fight down a
laugh at that comment.
"If Lilit fights with him and gets injured or killed, will she be
avenged?" Michael asked.
"If Lilit gets killed fighting for a loner, it's her own stupid
fault." The fledgling said. "That's what Blanc will say. And in
any case, I doubt she'll fight for Malvient in the first place.
Lilit values nothing more than her own skin." The Fledgling
looked agitatedly from Michael to Angelika, not liking being
cornered. "Can I go now?" Michael smiled, stepping out of the
way. "Of course. Thank you for cooperating." The fledgling ran
"What are we waiting for? Let's get him, you got your
information!" Angelika said. Michael sighed. "Cool it. We're
going." he said. Michael and Angelika.
They found the coven with relative ease; Michael had lived a long
time as a vampire, and once you saw one vampire lair, you've seen
It was a bar, an old thing that hadn't seen real business since
the sixties. It was surrounded by high concrete buildings, all of
them abandoned. This whole district was more or less empty.
Behind the bar, out of sight, was a large parking lot, littered
with broken glass, weeds, and a couple abandoned cars. It was
surrounded by boarded windows and rusty fire escapes. It was the
perfect hideout for creatures of the night.
Standing outside were three vampires: the one they'd cornered,
along with a dark-haired female and an old, pale haired male. The
pale haired vampire was obviously the head honcho.
Michael approached the three alone. "Hail, friends!" he called
out, drawing attention to himself. His usually straight frame was
slumped his face pointed downward. This was a classic example of
vampire body language. The posture here was saying, 'I'm not a
threat.' the fact that Angelika stayed behind was also vampire
politics. Two vampires approaching would be a threat, simply one
not a threat. Angelika disliked having to stay behind, but
understood why it was necessary.
The vampire they'd cornered earlier hid behind the pale-haired
vampire. He obviously remembered Michael from the alleyway. The
white haired vampire glanced at Michael, not even bothering to
change his posture. Both vampires were old, but it was not
contest who would win in a fight. Michael was taller, but the
pale- haired vampire had muscle, and was obviously a fighter. You
couldn't hold a high position in a coven without being a
fighter. Michael was just a wanderer.
"Hail, vampire," the pale haired vampire said after a short
pause. "What brings you to my coven?"
"My names' Michael and I was wondering if a vampire by the name
of Malvient was around?" Michael stopped a few yards away, to do
his best not to threaten the other vampire's space. Jeez,
Michael, you play vampire politics to the book, Angelika thought.
The space was more symbolic than anything anyway. A vampire as
old as Michael could cover that space before someone could blink,
if he wanted to fight.
The pale haired vampire cocked his head to one side in a
thoughtful way. "Not at this time. What of it?"
Before Michael could answer, the female vampire interrupted. "Oh,
please, Blanc. You heard what Cyril said. This is the vampire who
wants to pick a fight with Mal."
"Lilit, be silent" He commanded. Lilit flinched and shut up,
staring at the ground in submission. Blanc then looked at
Michael. "You're Michael the Wanderer, aren't you? The rover
vampire from the east. But what does Michael the Wanderer, who is
so famous for being averse to conflict, doing picking a fight
with a vampire like Malvient?" he asked curiously.
"It's not my fight to pick," Michael said calmly. "I'm merely
accompanying a vampire with a vendetta against him. I will not be
doing any fighting."
Blanc's eyes flicked to the shadows where Angelika was. "Fine by
me." He said. "My coven won't interfere. He's not here right now,
but you might find him here tomorrow." Michael nodded in what was
just short of a bow."Thank you. We'll come back tomorrow."
Michael left, signaling Angelika to follow.
"'We'll come back tomorrow?'" She hissed in rage. "Let's
find him now!"
"Patience," Michael chided. "You've waited this long, you can
wait another night."
"Curse you and your waiting! We can find him now! I am tired of
being patient, tired of you telling me so!" She hissed.
"Enough with your temper." He said. "Ever since we cornered him
here you've been obsessed with finding him. You would do well not
to think the battle will be so easy."
"It will be easy," She retorted. "I will rip him limb from limb."
"Like last time?" Michael asked scathingly. Angelika flinched at
the memory. "GO away, Mich." she said. "'go away Mitch'" He
repeated. "Every time I say something you can't deny it's 'go
away Mitch'. Well, I'm not going away. I'm gonna stay here and
make sure you don't kill yourself. This guy isn't small fry, Ang.
He's powerful. And I'm worried about you. You can't let revenge
be your only reason for living. What'll you do after you defeat
him? What then?"
"After that I'll be a good little fledgling and we can do other
things. After that I'll be at peace to live my life, but until
then I cannot live for any other reason. I'll be fine. I
wish you'd stop worrying." She said. Michael sighed, ruffling her
hair. "I do worry about you. I worry about you everyday. I worry
when I see your eyes burn with that wrath. It turns you into a
different person, Angelika. A stranger. And it frightens Me." he
said. Angelika gave his shoulder a light shove. "I'll be fine."
She repeated again.
"I hope so." Michael said.
They got back to the hotel room, and Angelika took a shower.
After she dried off and pulled some PJ's on and brushed her hair.
Or tried to, anyway. The wind that day had tangled her thick hair
into a rat's nest. After watching her failed attempts to tame the
wild mess for several seconds, Michael sighed and took the brush
from her. "Sit down," he instructed. Angelika sat on the bed and
let Michael untangle her hair. "You're awfully good at untangling
hair, for a man." she remarked. Michael scoffed. "You forget, I
used to have a ponytail. It's you're fault I had to cut it
short." He said darkly.
"The gum incident was an accident, and you know it." Angelika
Michael scoffed again.
"I regret nothing. Besides, you look better with short hair." She
said. "It's not the fourteen hundreds anymore, y'know."
Michael ignored her comment and continued unsnarling her hair.
"There," He said finally. "All done." Angelika and Michael sat
there for a moment longer before Angelika got up. She was
painfully aware of this new awkwardness between them. "Ang..."
"Not now, Mich." she said softly. She knew what he was going to
say, and didn't want to hear it. She liked Michael, maybe even
more than liked, but she couldn't deal with this while Malvient
was still out there. Not now.
"It's been four years, Ang." Michael said. "You gotta get over
"I can't while Malvient's still out there. After that... Well,
we've got plenty of time to sort this out after that." Michael
looked at her with a sad expression. He sighed.
"All right, Angel." He said. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow's gonna be
a big day."
Angelika went to bed. That night, so close to her long awaited
revenge, she dreamed of fire and blood.
Angelika waited in the shadows, standing next to Mitch in the lot
that was the coven's lair. The young vampire they had accosted in
the alley, whose name was Cyril, was fetching Malvient for them
(He may not have been Michael's vampire, but Mitch was old enough
that Cyril dare not disobey.)
The young Cyril came out, nervously looking around. Behind him
trailed a vampire Angelika knew the face of all too well, because
it was in every nightmare she'd had in four years, burned into
her memory as it was, from that bloodstained night. It was only
Michael's cautioning hand that held her back from attacking
Malvient looked at them, recognition flashing in his black, dead
eyes. "You," He said. Incredulously. "I remember you. You're that
woman, the housewife with so much fight in her. I thought I'd
killed you." he said. He looked at Michael accusingly. "Evidently
I didn't leave you dead enough."
Angelika hissed like a feral cat, vision turning red-tinged with
wrath. The young vampire Cyril, seeing a fight coming, quickly
retreated inside. Michael stepped away. "Good luck, Angel.
Remember your training." He murmured.
"Come now," Malvient sneered. "Do not tell me you have spent all
this time- what has it been, three, four years?- trying to find
me to pick another fight. This time I will not leave enough of
you for your friend to revive."
Angelika snarled a string of profanities, circling Malvient,
getting ready to attack.
"Temper," He said. "You've got just as much fight as you did four
years ago. Hopefully you will prove a better fighter this time."
Angelika leapt at him, claws out and fangs bared. The battle had
Malvient dodged her first attack, circling backward and out of
her immediate reach. He slashed at her with his own claws, but
Angelika had not spent the better part of four years training for
nothing, she jumped back from his claws, spinning behind him for
another attack. Malvient spun to face her, moving out of her
reach again. He circled around, trying to get her side as she
jumped out of the way. "I remember why you're after me, you
know," he goaded. "I killed your family and burned your house
down, didn't I? You must have found it frustrating, being so
helpless in defending them."
"Shut up!" Angelika roared fiercely. In her rage she misstepped,
almost falling prey to Malvient's claws. She leapt back
ungracefully, barely keeping her balance. Angelika circled around
fast, trying to get behind Malvient, but the older vampire was
not giving her an easy time of it.
"I remember how they're blood tasted too," he mocked. "I didn't
need to feed for a week after that. The little one was especially
Angelika leapt forward without thinking, blinded by rage and
bloodlust. Malvient had not expected such a forward attack, and
she managed to tackle him. Although it had won her a small
element of surprise, it had been a stupid move. Malvient was
older and stronger by a lot, and it took all of Angelika's
ferocity and speed to avoid being pinned. Once that happened, she
Angelika rolled away and sprang to her feet, barely avoiding
Malvient's claws. She had got him pretty good, but she was worse
for the ware. She wasn't thinking about her own wounds, however,
only about the wounds she had given him. She felt a small, dark
satisfaction at the taste of his blood in her mouth.
Angelika circled again, looking for a weak point. She was limping
where his claws had slashed her calf, aiming for her tendon. She
was lucky he had missed; the battle would have been over if he'd
hamstringed her. Even if he'd missed, the limp wasn't going to do
her any good.
Malvient suddenly lunged at her, and Angelika stumbled back on
her wounded leg, feeling it give out from under her as she
stepped on it at a wrong angle. The game was up, she knew she was
dead. But this time she'd damn well make sure she took Malvient
Angelika felt Malvient's claws slash at her shoulder and neck,
aiming for the large arteries and veins there. She clawed and
bit, expecting the death blow any minute. She was already losing
too much blood from her leg and shoulder wound. Suddenly,
however, Malvient was lifted off her with a screech. Angelika was
confused, until she saw Michael dragging his claws down
Malvient's back, pulling him away from her. Malvient spun around
and backhanded Michael in the jaw, sending the smaller vampire
flying. Michael slammed into the wall, stunned by the impact.
Malvient went after him, grabbing his foot and sending him
flying. Mitch hit the wall with a sickening smack, and Angelika
was sure she'd heard some bones crack. He slid to the ground like
a rag doll. All this had happened before she could blink.
"Mitch!" Angelika shouted. Malvient laughed evilly. Michael
"That's the second time he's saved your life," Malvient said.
"What a pain that vampire is. Weak as a lamb, yet he manages to
be a thorn in my side. No matter, though. I don't think your
babysitter is going to come save you again." He laughed again.
For once, Angelika ignored Malvient. "Mitch!" she called. He lay
motionless. Angelika felt panic and dread fight in her gut. She
no longer felt that killer rage, only a concern for Michael.
"Perhaps I will drain him after I'm done with you," Malvient
provoked Angelika. "Weak as he was, he was an old one. His blood
is sure to be powerful because of age, even if he was frail. I
should finish up with you before his body grows cold,"
Angelika threw herself on Malvient with a savage desperation. She
felt wrath, but now it was something in the back of her head,
like a buzzing. She felt wrath, but was not blinded by it.
"He must have really liked you," Malvient taunted as he evaded
her, "After being so famous for going out of his way for
centuries to avoid fighting, to try and go up against a stronger
vampire, all for his sniveling little fledgling, he must have
really lo-" Angelika slammed her claws into his throat, while he
was distracted with tormenting her. He had made a mistake;
thinking he could control her with her own rage. And until he had
harmed Michael, he had been able to. But after seeing her friend
hurt saving her, she no longer felt that all-consuming wrath,
only a grim determination to end this. She buried her claws into
his windpipe, and ripped his throat out. She tore him apart, bone
and muscle and skin. And she felt no satisfaction from it. She
didn't have the heart to enjoy it.
After Malvient was dead, Angelika stared at his mutilated body.
She felt nothing. No relief that it was over, no dark
satisfaction in finally getting her revenge, only emptiness. She
felt lost. And in the end, perhaps the final joke was that she
felt no different from when Malvient was alive. It made no
difference. She had finally reached the end of her journey, and
only found a yawning, infinite expanse of nothingness she was
standing on the brink of.
Angelika walked over to Michael. He wasn't moving. She touched
him, and there was no breath, no heartbeat. She cradled his
broken body in her arms, and felt numb tears slide down her face.
It hadn't been worth it. She thought. It had never been worth it.
Because when all was said and done, and Malvient was dead, it
changed nothing. Charles was still dead, Mika was still dead, and
now her revenge had cost her dearest friend his life. All her
wrath had brought was the death of the only person who had cared
about her; who had saved her and healed her and taught her and
loved her enough to go on this quest for revenge with her, cared
about her enough to sacrifice his own life for hers, even if she
had never done a thing for him in return. "I'm sorry Mitch," she
whispered. "I'm so sorry. You were right all along, and I was an
idiot not to see it sooner."
Angelika didn't know how long she sat there; it could have been
hours, it could have been seconds, but suddenly she felt she was
Angelika looked up, and saw a young man pacing nearby. He was
scowling at a clipboard and muttering to himself.
"Not right, not right at all…"
Angelika stared at the stranger. "Who are you?"
The stranger stopped his pacing and turned to face her, eyes
flashing. At a first glance, Angelika would have called him a
vampire, for he was certainly not a mortal, but she now saw he
was as much of a vampire as a wolf was a Chihuahua. He was
something far more powerful, and strange. Otherness like she had
never felt before came off him in waves. It occurred to her that
this might be the way a human feels looking at a vampire for the
"You!" The stranger yelled, striding forward in a rage. "A plague
on you, you poxy, mule-headed, meddlesome thing! Twice your
number comes up, and twice you dance away alive! A curse on you
and your poxy, fox-faced kind! A curse on all interfering
Angelika blinked in surprise. The stranger had bizarre eyes, so
lighta blue they could be easily mistaken for white. The ghostly,
unearthly eyes that now glared at her accusingly. "Excuse me?"
She said. "I don't quite follow."
The stranger continued to glare. "You are the most troublesome
race, you stinking vampires! Every time I get everyone's numbers
down for the day, one of you cursed poxy things screws the times
up, and I have to write them all over again! Do you know how long
that takes? All of you demi-mortals, you all mess with the clocks
and the times and the numbers, that I never get a moments rest
having to clean it all up!"
Angelika blinked again. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand. Who
are you, what are you?"
The strangers' glare even made Angelika nervous, and she was a
vampire. "Who am I? A fine question to ask! I would think you
would recognize one of your names' namesakes! I'm the one whose
been cleaning up your kinds' messes for the last millennia. I am
Samael, cursed unlucky time keeper of everybody, the angel of
death. I'm the angel that get's to clean up after you vile
demi-mortals screw up someone's time."
Angelika stared at the stranger, Samael, really looking at him
for the first time. His skin was so pale it was barely off-white,
his eyes a ghostly, blazing bluish white. His hair looked soft
and fine as thistledown, floating on even the softest breath of
air, like a million strands of snow white spider silk. He was
medium tall, with a slender build and a round, boyish face. His
profile seemed to radiate a soft white aura of light, and yet
there was darkness in it. On his back, an aura of shadows and
darkness surrounded the shape of what she realized where jet
black wings. He was dressed in a nondescript blue knee length
tunic the shade of the noon sky, and pants the grey of lightning
clouds. Above his head was a thin circlet of braided light, like
lightning and shadows woven together. A halo, Angelika thought.
"Well? What have you to say for yourself?" The angel demanded.
"I didn't know I was messing with anything," Angelika said
truthfully. "And, I'm sorry but your death? The grim reaper? And
by time- you mean lifetimes, don't you?"
"What did you think I meant, day times?" Samael still seemed
annoyed, but had calmed down. "I'm not the Grim Reaper, I'm
death. The Grim Reaper is just the one who fetches the souls. I,
meanwhile, do the paperwork and keep the clocks. I sometimes get
to fetch a particularly troublesome soul."
"But-I'm sorry but angels- they don't exist!" She said in
disbelief. Samael raised an eyebrow. "Neither do vampires." He
said archly. He then pulled a pocket watch from somewhere and
showed it to her. It was gold with patterns of roses with thorns
engraved on it, along with the name, Angelika R. Demitrov. The
clock itself was bizarre, because the hour hand was on the number
thirteen (Which is not a number commonly found on clocks), and
the minute hand was spinning around crazily. "You see that?"
Samael asked. "You were supposed to die today, just like you were
supposed to die four years ago. It is seldom a person forestalls
death once, and you have managed to do it twice. You should not
be alive right now."
Angelika looked down and blinked back tears. "Michael saved me. I
should have died, but now he's dead." She whispered.
"Yes," Samael said. "You should have died, but he should have
not." Samael pulled out another pocket watch, this one bronze
with a faded blue ribbon for the chain. This one had the name
Michael the Wanderer engraved on the front, in sharp bold
letters. The clock in this one had the hour hand at five, and the
minute hand at six. The numbers here were written in roman
"Do you see the problem?" Samael asked. "The hour hand is only at
five, and yet the clock has stopped. If it had been his time,
both hands would be pointing to the thirteen. His time is not up,
but it appears he has traded it with you."
"Then give him back his life and take me!" Angelika cried.
"Not that simple," Samael said. "I am only allowed to affect the
future and present, I can do nothing to the past. What's done is
done." Samael looked at Michael's body. "But I have my orders.
Tell me, was killing Malvient worth it? Finally avenging your
family's murder?" Samael asked.
"No," Said Angelika. "It was never worth it. Even if I did kill
Malvient, Charles and Mika would still be dead. It wouldn't
matter to them if Malvient lived or died. What difference would
it make? And now, because of my wrath at Malvient, Michael's
dead. If I could rewrite my mistakes, I would."
"Ah, but that's the peril of being mortal, even only
demi-mortal," Samael said. "Anything you do, you cannot change.
So you must tread carefully, and think of the cost of your
"I've learned that all too well," Angelika said. "I was a fool."
"'by three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection,
which is noblest; second, by imitation, which is easiest; and
third by experience, which is the bitterest.'"
Angelika looked at him. "Huh?"
"That is all we wanted. A little less pride, a little learnt
wisdom. To see the error of wrath and vengeance. That is all we
wanted of you."
Samael actually smiled, then produced some kind of glowing,
rainbow ball of aura, like a miniature sun. He knelt down and
touched it to Michael, and there was a flash of searing light.
Angelika felt someone shake her. She never remembered passing
out, but had evidently.
"Ang! C'mon, get up, Angel!"
Angelika tenses then sits bolt upright. She knows that voice, but
it can't be…
Michael looks at her. "About time. I've been trying to wake you
up for the last three minutes, but you were out like a light. I
was afraid there was something wrong with you." Angelika just
stared at him. No, this wasn't right, Michael had been dead…
"Hey what's wrong? You've got the strangest look on your face."
Michael said, frowning. Angelika didn't answer, but threw her
arms around him.
"You're crushing my ribs," Mitch complained. Angelika kissed him
on the mouth. He was alive, alive, alive, her heart sang.
Angelika didn't realized she was sobbing until Michael wrapped
his arms around her. "Enough, stop that." He murmured. "You're
one of the toughest people I've known, what's with the
waterworks? It's over, Angel."
"I thought you were dead!" Angelika sobbed. "You weren't
breathing, you had no heartbeat-"
"I'm fine now." Michael said, trying to soothe her. "I'm
"Sorry, I'm so sorry, you were right all along," She said. "I
thought you were dead, you stupid vampire! What's the matter with
"Enough with the crying. And I saved your life, if I remember, so
you have no business scolding me." He said.
Angelika buried her face in his shirt. "I thought I'd lost you."
"Come now," Michael said, soothing her. "You won't lose me half
so easy. I'm like a bad penny, I'll always come back." He tilted
her head up so he could look at her face. "Whether you want me to
Angelika laughed, and it turned into a hiccup. Michael smiled,
getting to his feet. He winced. "Come on, now Angel. Let's go
back to the hotel and get cleaned up." Angelika stood up, and
swayed on her feet. She was weaker than she had thought. Michael
wrapped his arm around her to support her, and they walked back
to the hotel together, a burden lifted from Angelika's shoulders
and a bright new life ahead. I won't be so quick to waste it this
time, Angelika thought.