• Chapter 1:

    The streets of Paris were empty late at night as a heavy fog rolled in along with a shower of crystal droplets. Out from the depths of the white mist came a woman, stumbling down the road. Her muddy dress could be compared to rags, hanging loosely around her frail body in tatters. She wore no shoes, having lost those years ago. Her lank, shoulder length blond hair, though appearing brown from buildup of dirt, was ragged from a pocketknife used to shed unwanted tangles. A strip of cloth was worn around her head, covering her eyes. Beneath that cloth lie a haze as clouded as the mist. A long stick protruded from her hands, clacking against the ground not far ahead of her.

    Her face was pale, her skin cold. Only her blood red lips showed any color, for indeed they glistened with the red liquid. She lost her footing, falling to the ground. Her breathing was shallow as she crawled around, feeling with her hands for her only means of guidance. Her hands clasped around the stick and she slowly stood up, drawing in shaky breaths. She was weak, so close to stepping over the threshold between life and blissful death.

    She had long deep scratches running across her face, still stinging afresh from the night’s events. She hadn’t wanted to attack those people in the carriage, but she couldn’t control herself. The wounds on her back and stomach were burning hot, as she could practically still feel the whip piercing her flesh. The gash in her side was delivering pain with every step she took. Her right shoulder was throbbing from where she had removed that bullet after all the clawing and scratching. Damn their swords. Damn their guns. Damn their manmade weapons. That tussle had almost been her last, but regretfully it wasn’t. Somehow she’d managed to live and she cursed whatever guardian angel must be watching her for making that so.

    The clouds hid any trace of the full moon, showering Paris in darkness, and something she was grateful for. Though she couldn’t ever see it, she knew when the full moon was out, when it was hidden, and when she was within its luminous glow. If only she could get out of the town, then she knew there would be no more sins added to her already burdened soul. But considering the state she was in, she knew that a quick escape was impossible, and she continued to wander on.

    Townsfolk peeked out through their windows to get a look at this stranger, but no one tried to assist her. A dark aura seemed to surround the woman, causing most dogs that were outside to whimper in fear, putting their tale between their legs, as she passed. Others barked at her, knowing that this type of creature was not welcome in their territory. Death and decay followed this woman wherever she went, covering her tracks like a blanket of putrefaction. And her tracks could never be uncovered and followed, so no one ever knew exactly where she had come from.

    Her stick struck something low to the ground, something that didn’t move. She hesitantly took a step forward and her toes hit stone. She lifted her foot and stepped forward again. One leg felt a bit more elevated than the other, so she figured she must have come to a staircase. A staircase meant a building, and a building meant sefety. She would definitely fair better if the inhabitants accepted her in their abode, and other risks could be avoided with such an action. So she slowly made her way up the staircase, trying not to trip and fall again. Due to the rain, the stairs were wet. As she neared the top step, her gash delivered an unbearable jolt of pain and she brought her hands to her side, accidentally dropping her stick. She heard it clatter down the stairs, falling away from her. She tried to turn around and descend down the stairs to retrieve it, but her bare feet slipped in the water and she lost her footing again.

    She tumbled down the stairs, hitting her head many times before coming to a stop. Letting out a low groan, she raised her head. She tried to support herself, but she was far too weak. She allowed her head to fall back to the ground as she mouthed the words, “Help me.” But she wondered if she really did wish for assistance, for truly she longed for the reaper to smother her life in his clammy skeletal hands and let her sleep for eternity. But her thoughts continued no further than that, for unconsciousness soon assailed her fatigued mind and body. Unbeknownst to her, a skeleton, a demon, or perhaps even an angel, watched from above.