19 comments/ 28831 views/ 7 favorites Send Me an Angel By: rachlou This story is an official entry in the Winter Holiday Contest. A thousand thanks go to Slc_Willie for his time spent editing this piece. Any mistakes left in it can only be attributed to me... * * * The girl sprinted down the stone steps, her long dark hair flying out behind her like a banner in the wind. She stumbled on the last step and almost fell, throwing her arm out to one side in an attempt to regain her balance. Her beige canvas bag crashed onto the ground, books and pieces of paper slipping out in an untidy heap. Malachi watched curiously from his vantage point over by the ancient sycamore tree. He leant against the gnarled bark, his hands pushed firmly into his pockets in the biting December chill, despite the fact he never felt the cold. He always tried to mimic the body language of people he observed and he had noted that they all reacted in subtle ways to the weather conditions prevailing at any given time. It amused him to copy these behavioural gestures in the same way that it amused him to overhear their conversations and pick up snippets of their often mundane lives. The girl had begun to collect her scattered belongings, a faint blush colouring her pale cheeks. Untidily she shoved everything back inside her bag and continued on her way across the square, dodging the throngs of students until she was lost amongst them, just another dark head bobbing amongst a crowd. Malachi continued to sense her long after she had disappeared from eye sight, managing to follow her right up until the point she descended into the underground station and was lost to him. He scanned the area briefly and sensing nobody else of interest, he walked towards the busy main street. People passed by him, occasionally brushing against his tall body, but none saw him. He picked up flashes of their lives and fragments of their conversations, listening to their chaotic thoughts and emotions passing over him like a frenetic newsreel. A tired looking woman in a grey coat was on her way to meet her lover, her heart breaking at the disastrous news she needed to tell him. Her handbag was clasped tightly to her breast, her eyes downcast and inward looking. A young man stood outside the convenience store with a stolen mobile phone in his pocket, edgy and paranoid; his snake eyes flicking over the people passing him by. In a flash he snatched the leather bag from the woman as she walked past, wrenching it from her grasp with a strong tug. She screamed in panicked shock, reflexively holding onto the handles with all her strength. The young man was far stronger than she was and he soon pulled her to the ground in his attempt to wrest the prized bag from her. "Let go, bitch!" he hissed viciously and with one final yank, he had the bag and was running away down a side street, disappearing into the crowd in a flash. The whole encounter had taken less than a minute and Malachi watched from a distance as the woman lay sobbing on the pavement while people continued to pass heedless of her distress. He could feel her pain reaching out to him and he absorbed it dispassionately. Eventually somebody stopped to help her, offering comfort as they pulled her to her feet. It frequently amazed him how cruel humans could be. They were capable of the most amazing acts of compassion and bravery, but all too often the reverse was true. During his time spent observing them, he had been a passive witness to terrible crimes of violence, but it was not these that he remembered. It was the smallest acts of kindness that stayed with him and kept him here, silently watching. A police car approached the scene of the mugging and Malachi melted away, heading for the Underground station the girl had descended into. The steep concrete steps littered with the detritus of human existence, took him downwards into the brightly lit station and he melted through the barriers unseen, slipping between the other passengers as they hurried to catch their trains. He wasn't headed anywhere in particular; he never was, so he just followed a smart suited gent down some more steps and onto one of the platforms. It was almost deserted as the next train wasn't due for ten minutes. Litter fluttered like dry autumnal leaves in the draft from the mouth of the dark tunnel that yawned malevolently. Taking a seat on a hard metal bench, Malachi gazed curiously for a moment at a poster on the wall opposite. It was advertising a new film. The images of futuristic architecture and imaginative demons amused him and he smiled faintly. He was so absorbed in the lurid pictures, it startled him when an old man approached and looked at him hopefully with rheumy red eyes, "Got a light?" the man rasped, his voice rattling in his chest, as he held out a cigarette in his shaking, liver spotted hand. Malachi turned to fix his violet gaze upon him unflinchingly in surprise, unused to being seen by mortals. The man coughed and wheezed slightly, phlegm bubbling in his throat. Malachi could see the cancer as a dark malignant shadow hanging over the old man. He felt something resembling pity as he realised instantly that the man would be dead within a short time. Malachi shook his head in response and the old man sighed heavily before turning away again, muttering to himself unintelligibly. He shuffled off towards the other passengers waiting further up the platform. A whoosh of heat and wind signalled the impending arrival of the train and Malachi got to his feet. He had no idea where it would take him but that was unimportant; he had all the time in the world. * * * Olivia glanced at her watch, wondering where in hell David had could be. Her coffee congealed in its cup on the table before her. She fidgeted nervously, thinking back to his online profile and wondering for the fiftieth time whether it was such a great idea to be dating again. It had taken her a long time to get over Jack - almost a year in fact. There had been no one since. She had had offers, of course, but had turned them down. Her studies were far too time-consuming anyway; men were just a distraction and besides, she had no desire to be hurt again. Her fragile heart still bore the painful scars Jack had etched upon it. There was a clatter from the entrance to the café and Olivia looked up, startled. A scruffy young man with curly brown hair and a red face was apologising profusely to the surly waitress. Judging by the pile of cutlery on the floor, he had collided with her in his apparent rush to get inside and out of the biting December wind. Olivia watched him with a sinking feeling. He bore an uncanny resemblance to the photo of David she'd seen and she realised her date had arrived. She knew instantly he wasn't going to be her type and she sighed despondently. With a sense of impending doom, she watched dispiritedly as the man made his way clumsily over to the table with a cheesy grin and a sad bunch of limp flowers. "Hi!" he beamed nervously. "I'm David, and you look like Olivia! I must say your photo doesn't do you justice!" He sat down without waiting for her response. Olivia noticed with distaste that his paisley nylon shirt had damp sweaty patches under the arms when he removed his thick wool coat. "Thanks for the flowers," she said when they were thrust into her face making her sneeze. "Erm they're... beautiful." Actually they were half dead and looked like they had been expropriated from the nearest cemetery, but she didn't want to hurt his feelings. Hurriedly she dropped them onto the floor next to her bag to avoid another sneezing fit. David quickly ordered himself a coffee from the waitress and launched into a tedious monologue about his favourite subject - himself. Olivia shifted uncomfortably into the hard plastic chair and briefly contemplated suicide as David rambled on, seemingly indifferent to her lack of conversation. Oh well, she thought morosely, if this was dating then she was quite certain she would be sticking to fossils in the future. Dead dinosaurs may be boring to some people, but they were a helluva lot more interesting than this guy. * * * Malachi left the tube station and followed the surge of humans up the elevator back into the light. The street was teeming with the flotsam and jetsam of Christmas shoppers all trying to find their ideal presents amongst the gaudy displays of expensive garbage. He paused for a moment outside the partially steamed up window of a café, small coloured lights twinkling around the edge of the grubby glass. The girl he had seen earlier sat beyond the window opposite a lanky youth. She was not looking at the young man; she was staring out of the window right at Malachi as her companion chattered away obliviously. He gazed curiously at her pale, pretty face; the dark strands of hair curling beguilingly around the sweep of her cheekbone. Through the window he could see her eyes were a bewitching turquoise colour and her lips a pale dusky pink. His memories were stirred. The girl reminded him of another woman from a very long time ago. The resemblance was uncanny and for a moment he was catapulted back through the ages to a distant time. * * * Octavia's beautiful turquoise eyes welled up with blurry tears. "How long will you be gone this time?" "I don't know..." Titus said truthfully. He knew it would be a long and bloody campaign; the Gauls were proving to be far hardier adversaries than Rome had ever envisaged, but the Emperor was determined to wipe out all resistance in Gallia. It may well take time but eventually the Emperor would have his way. Titus wished he didn't have to leave his wife, but he was a Legionaire and he had no choice in the matter. Octavia struggled to control her emotions. The fear of losing Titus was almost more than she could bear, but she didn't want to add any further burden onto him. He had enough to think about without a snivelling wife to distract him. She would just have to pray for his safe return, as she always did. The fragrant night air was cool and she shivered slightly, her skin prickling with a sense of foreboding. For weeks now she had been plagued with terrible nightmares of death and carnage. She had been reluctant to tell Titus about her dreams, but she was truly fearful that when he left in the morning, he would not be coming back. Titus crossed the marble floor and lovingly took his wife in his arms. Her dark hair was pinned up in coils upon her head and he threaded his fingers through the curls at the nape of her neck. He inhaled the subtle scent of her skin. They stood together for a long moment, listening to the steady beat of each other's heart, lost in their own thoughts. "You know I'll always love you, my darling," Titus whispered into her hair. She didn't answer and he felt her warm tears soaking through the fabric of his tunic. Her pain hurt him and wished he could take it away, but he couldn't – his duty was to Rome and they both knew it. "Shhh," he soothed, "I'll be back before our child is born." He reached between their bodies and stroked the gently burgeoning swell of her belly. She was still in the early stages of pregnancy, but already her body was changing. Her breasts were fuller and the darkened aureoles enlarged. She looked so desirable and he moved his hand upwards to brush across her sensitive nipples, provoking a sharp sigh of pleasure. Octavia lifted her head from his shoulder and smiled through her tears. "I will wait for you to return home," she said softly and reached up to kiss him, tasting the outline of his lips and flicking her tongue teasingly into his mouth. If they only had one night left together, she wanted to be sure she sent him on his way properly. "Come..." she said with a coy look. Taking his hand, she led her husband up the stairs into their bed-chamber, away from the prying eyes of the servants. Incense filled the air with spicy notes of vanilla and jasmine; oil lamps burned, casting deep shadows over the modestly furnished room. Outside, the burbling of the courtyard fountain competed with the humming of nighttime insects. Faint sounds of the servants going about their business occasionally infiltrated the inner sanctum of their chamber, but Titus and Octavia were oblivious to it all. Octavia released the shoulder clasps holding her stola, allowing the fabric to fall to the floor. She stood before her beloved husband, naked and proud, her body lush, ripe and tempting. Titus watched, growing hard beneath his tunic. She walked towards him slowly, her heavy breasts gently swaying. He could smell the subtle scent of feminine arousal and he fought to control his desire to take her then, plunging into her body without preamble until he lost himself within her heat. Rather, Titus wanted to take his time tonight, to show his wife through his actions how much he loved and worshipped her. Gently, he reached out and slowly stroked her shoulders, moving teasingly down her chest until he held the weight of her milky white breasts in the palms of his hands. His calloused thumbs rubbed cross her taut nipples and she groaned aloud at the exquisite sensation. Moving his hands back upwards, he kissed her lingeringly while he unpinned her hair and allowed it to cascade over her shoulders in ebony waves. He pulled the lush strands to cover her breasts so that only her nipples were peeking through; small pink nubs against the rich silk of her skeins of hair. "How will I live without you?" he asked, almost to himself. "We will be together every night in our dreams my love." Octavia answered; believing this was the only way she could allow him to leave her tomorrow. She reached for her husband and kissed him, plunging her tongue deep into the cavity of his mouth. Titus pulled her hard against him, tracing the curve of her bottom with his hand and dipping his fingers between her thighs. Octavia parted her legs to allow him access and he smiled against her mouth. She was always eager for his touch, which was one of the things he loved about her; his wife enjoyed their passion as much as he did. Not all husbands could say the same, he well knew. Indeed, many of his comrades complained endlessly about their wives and took mistresses to compensate. But Titus only wanted Octavia – she was everything to him. She was dripping with arousal and he paused for a moment to regain his self-control. Octavia moaned in his ear and pushed herself down onto his hand, trying to make him caress her, as she desired. "Patience my darling," he muttered. Kissing her neck and nibbling the skin at the base of her throat, he slid his fingers between the folds of her sex. She moaned louder and he homed in on the hard nub of her clitoris, brushing over it lightly. Octavia trembled against him, her body tensing in a prelude to her orgasm. Slowly, teasingly, he caressed the slick folds of flesh, listening to her panting in his ear. She whimpered in disappointment when he pulled his fingers away from her, but as he pushed her backwards upon the bed, she realised what his intention was. Invitingly, Octavia spread her legs wide, her open sex displayed in all its glory. Titus knelt between her thighs and inhaled her musky scent deeply. His cock throbbed painfully beneath his tunic, but he ignored its pleading; his only desire at the moment was to please Octavia in the best way he knew how. He dipped his tongue into the moist depths of her sex, tasting her sweet juices and lapping her nectar. She cried out at his touch and he felt the first faint ripples of her orgasm. Slowly he licked across her clitoris, swirling his tongue round the hard nub and sucking it gently. Octavia's thighs clamped painfully around his head. She cried out again and exploded in pleasure. For a moment Titus couldn't breathe, then gradually Octavia relaxed her iron grip and he took a deep lungful of air, feeling her still quivering beneath him. Titus lifted himself up and moved to lie next to her sweating body. His wife's eyes were closed as he kissed her lips. He stroked her breasts and belly while she came down from her high. Eventually she opened her eyes and smiled dreamily at him. Turning onto her side, she kissed him and reached for his cock. The feel of her small hand wrapped tightly around his shaft was almost enough to finish him. He sucked in a deep shaky breath and sat up. Undoing his belt first, Titus swiftly pulled his tunic over his head and threw it onto the floor. Octavia gazed upon him as he was bathed in the golden light from the oil lamps. His muscles were sharply defined; a light sprinkling of hair covered his chest and abdomen. His cock pointed proudly upwards and outwards. Licking her lips lasciviously, Octavia rolled forward and took it in her velvety mouth. Titus groaned and half closed his eyes. Her lips were tight and firm around his shaft and he struggled to hold himself in check. The moist flicker of her tongue across the head made him gasp harshly. "Slow down, my love, or I won't last!" Octavia pulled back slightly and paused for a moment before sinking back down until the head of his cock touched the back of her throat. Gripping her head tightly in one hand, Titus moved himself in and out of her mouth, concentrating on the exquisite sensations. Nearly upon the point of no return, he pulled away abruptly and Octavia pouted in disappointment. He dragged her to her feet and moved her backwards, pushing her down onto the thick blankets. Moving over her, he positioned himself at the entrance to her sex, feeling her heat burning into him like a furnace. He bent to take a nipple in his mouth, tugging with his teeth and hearing her moan in response. Octavia wrapped her legs around his waist and sucked him inside her tight channel. For a sublime moment he enjoyed the feel of her inner muscles gripping his cock and he gazed deeply into her adoring eyes. "I love you," he whispered and slowly began to thrust in and out of her body, watching the pleasure flutter across her face in waves. She gripped his back and dug deeply with her nails, causing him to cry out. "Aghhh I love you too..." she gasped, climaxing again, her body shuddering amid delicious spasms beneath him. Titus thrust harder and deeper inside her, his own orgasm overtaking him in a rush of dizzying pleasure. He exploded within her body with a shout, wave upon wave of hot fluid bursting from his balls. He shook with the intensity of his climax, his heart racing. Slowly the pleasure faded and he rolled off her, pulling her into his body until they lay locked together in a tangle of sweaty limbs. The scent of bougainvillea drifted through the open shutters as they drifted into sleep. In the pre-dawn light, Titus crept from their bed and gazed down at his beloved Octavia. Quietly he dressed and, being careful not to disturb her, kissed her gently on the lips. She stirred and sighed, but didn't awaken. "I love you," he told her again, even though he knew she couldn't hear him. His heart heavy with grief, Titus left. When Octavia awoke, she realised he had gone and she cried, her body wracked with wretched sobs. She knew she would never see him again; she could feel it in her heart. She was right. Three months later, Titus was dead. A Gaul barbarian cut him down from his horse and butchered him mercilessly. * * * For a moment, Malachi had forgotten who and where he was. The powerful images from long ago gripped him and the unfamiliar feelings rocked his core. It had been so long since he was mortal; he had almost forgotten how it felt. The love and pain from the past life rocked his being and left him feeling utterly disorientated. Olivia stared out of the foggy window, into the darkening afternoon. For a moment, she thought she had seen a dark-haired man staring intently at her, but when she blinked, he was gone. She must have imagined him, she thought with a sigh. Funny, though; he had seemed so real, almost familiar. But she searched her memory in vain, trying to work out why she felt she knew him. Send Me an Angel David coughed loudly, finally aware that he did not have her undivided attention. She jumped slightly and apologised, feeling guilty for ignoring him. "I'm so sorry; I have an assignment due in tomorrow and its kinda bugging me," she said. "I think maybe I need to go and do some more work. Would you mind if we took a rain check on this for now?" She looked apologetically at him. David frowned slightly but realised that he did not have much choice in the matter. "No, of course not. It's been a pleasure meeting you. Maybe we can do this again?" he asked hopefully. Not a chance, Olivia thought, but she smiled politely. "Yeah, that'd be great, I'll call you." Grabbing her book bag and the flowers, she dashed out of the café and into the busy street, eager to get away as quickly as possible. Malachi watched her leave, and on impulse followed her. He had no idea why he felt so drawn, but knew he had to stay with her. Olivia walked swiftly towards the tube station and jogged down the steps, her breath steaming in the frigid air. * * * Olivia woke bathed in sweat and looked at the luminous dial of her alarm clock – it read 3.18 am in neon green letters. She lay back and rubbed her eyes wearily. The dream had been a particularly vivid one and the last vestiges of it still floated fuzzily in her mind. She vaguely remembered a terrible feeling of sadness and a villa with a stone water fountain in a courtyard. The rest was hazy and hovered annoyingly just outside the periphery of her consciousness. The bedroom was freezing. Shivering, she jumped out of bed to the bathroom. Her silky slip clung to her form as she padded across the worn carpet. Outside on the balcony, Malachi sat watching her. He had been there for hours, motionless, his hair now white with a sprinkling of frost. This wasn't normal behaviour for him. He did occasionally watch individuals over a period of time – because they interested him in some way – but to do as he had done this freezing night was not normal. He found himself increasingly slipping between the past and present, unable to differentiate betwixt the two. He knew that his mortal past wasn't meant to be entirely forgotten, but it had never been so close to the surface before. Memories were haemorrhaging through his subconscious at a frightening rate. It was unsettling, to say the least. For some reason this strange phenomena had been triggered by this girl and he needed to find out why. So he continued to watch and sift through the memories. * * * The girl with the long dark hair sat waiting by the stream. The water was teaming with silvery trout and she watched, fascinated, as the fish danced and dived through the fast flowing currents. "Sarah!" The voice came from a distance, carried on the warm summer breeze, and she immediately jumped up in excitement. Harry appeared over the crest of the hill, running fast through the meadow towards her. For a second she smiled delightedly, but her smile faded fast when she saw the uniform he was wearing. "Well – do I look a handsome bugger or what?" he grinned as he reached her, spinning around in a circle for her approval. Sarah looked him up and down, and rather reluctantly agreed that, yes, he did look handsome in his RAF uniform. Then she turned away so he couldn't see her tears. "What's the matter?" he asked in surprise. "I thought you'd be pleased for me!" "Why would I be pleased to watch you go off to fight in this bloody war and get yourself killed?" she retorted, her turquoise eyes flashing angrily. Harry's smile faded as he realised how upset she was. "I'm sorry, Sarah. You know I love you, but I have to do this. This war affects all of us and I can't sit by and wait until I'm drafted – I have to do my bit now." Sarah's expression softened a little. She flopped down on the cushiony grass and sighed heavily. "I know you do... I'm just afraid I'm going to lose you." "Sweetheart, I love you more than anything in the world, and I promise you I always will. I have another week before they ship me off for training. I'd say that gives us plenty of time to get hitched don't you?" Harry reached into his breast pocket and pulled a ring out. Kneeling down before her, he said gravely, "Sarah Patterson, will you do me the considerable honour of becoming my wife?" The tears welled up and leaked out despite her best intentions. "Oh Harry..." she sobbed. "Of course I will, you idiot!" "Charming!" he laughed. "Hardly the most romantic of acceptances, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers!" Gently he slipped the ring onto her finger and kissed her passionately. Sarah wound her arms around his neck. She deliberately chose not to think about him leaving her to go and fight in a war in which he might be killed. The thought was just too painful. He was too young to die. So she concentrated her attention on the way her body was reacting to his touch. They sank to the grassy floor and lay in the sun, kissing and touching each other. Now that the war had intruded in their lives, everything had subtly changed and suddenly there seemed no point in waiting to do the things they had both been dreaming about for months. Harry kissed her neck and stroked her leg under her skirt, gradually edging higher and higher until she was on fire with anticipation of something she didn't fully understand. "Oh please... don't stop!" she gasped urgently. "Sarah, are you sure?" Harry replied, tormenting her with his teasing fingers. "I will stop if you say so..." he didn't want to stop at all; his cock was harder than it had ever been and he desperately wanted to make love to this beautiful girl who was shortly to become his wife. "No I mean it, I want you to touch me... there..." she didn't know how else to say it. She was a virgin; there had been nobody before Harry. Mary James from the village had hinted that 'it' hurt, but she hadn't elaborated on what 'it' was, so Sarah was still none the wiser. At this particular moment however, she was in too much torment to care. Her breasts ached within the confines of her brassiere and that place between her legs throbbed unbearably. Instinctively she knew that if Harry would only touch her there, the torment would cease. He slid his hand inside her knickers and she gasped in shock. His fingers fluttered lightly over her sex and she groaned at the pleasurable sensations he was causing her to feel. She felt wet and slippery and he rubbed firmly over that hard nub where the feelings were concentrated. Without warning, an intense burst of pleasure crashed over her and she cried out, not really understanding what was happening to her. "Oh God!" she panted, her body alive with ripples of blissful pleasure. "Why thank you - but I'm not quite that good!" Harry grinned at her, removing his hand from beneath her skirt and kissing her tenderly. "What happened to me?" she asked in wonderment. "You had an orgasm, my love." He chuckled and pulled her close, inadvertently causing her to feel his erection through his trousers. "What about you?" Sarah reached down and tentatively touched the hard bulge in his pants. "You haven't had an..." she blushed slightly, "an orgasm?" "No my love, but I can wait!" he grinned wryly. "It is kind of uncomfortable, but I'll survive. We have a wedding to plan anyway..." As much as he wanted her, he also wanted her first time to be perfect and that meant a comfortable bed; not a prickly grassy meadow under the hot sun. He could wait another few days... They were married six days later and one day after that, Harry was sent away for his pilot training. The time they had together was short but intense as Sarah's new husband initiated her into the joys of love. The day the telegram arrived six months later, Sarah already knew he was dead. She had dreamt it every night for a week, so the piece of emotionless paper merely confirmed her worst nightmare. His plane had been shot down over Germany and there were no survivors; he was just another casualty of war. He hadn't even known he was going to be a father. * * * Olivia awoke in the morning feeling like she had not slept at all. She had been plagued by the strangest dreams all night. Disjointed images of people she had never met and places she had never seen. She dragged herself out of bed yawning heavily and rubbed her red eyes. For a second she could have sworn she saw a man on her balcony and she nearly screamed in shock. But she rubbed her eyes hard and when she re-opened them, he had vanished. It was the second time it had happened and she was beginning to think that maybe she was working too hard. The Christmas break would probably do her a world of good. Malachi had spent all night re-living his past lives and trying to make sense of what was happening to him. Maybe he was being tested in some way? The only thing he was certain of was that this girl was, in some way, shape or form, a living incarnation of all his past lovers. All the women he had ever loved were somehow embodied in her and for that reason he was becoming dangerously enamoured. Love was not a part of his existence now and he knew he should not be feeling this way. Yet, he had spent all night observing her and longing to be with her, lying beside this woman and touching her. He did not understand why at all but he was powerless to stop himself. He shook himself like a dog and his coat crackled as ice crystals flew off in the freezing air. The sky above had darkened ominously, threatening the first winter snowfall of the year. When Olivia appeared outside, Malachi was compelled once more to follow her. He walked behind her as she made her way towards the college. Occasionally he thought she had seen him, but then she would look away again. She should not be able to see him, of course; that was not how things were. But a part of him was beginning to wish she could see him and that part was dangerous. Olivia had the weird sensation that she was being watched. This continued for a week and she was beginning to feel quite spooked. Between that and the dreams, she wondered if she was going insane. Every night she dreamt about the same two people, only they had different names and they lived in different times. Always they were lovers and always it ended in the death of the man. The strangest part was that the woman looked uncannily like her. This realisation had not struck her straight away, it only happened when she had been startled awake by the phone right in the middle of a particularly vivid dream and the details had stayed with her more clearly. She had almost tasted the acrid gun smoke and felt the early morning frost on her bare feet. Her skin had been bathed in sweat when the insistent ringing woke her, disorientated, her heart racing in fear. It had taken several moments for her brain to realise where she was and lift her out of the dream. It had been the worst one yet... * * * Elisabeth sat huddled before the meagre fire burning in the grate. Firewood was scarce, but it was so cold outside this December night, she had allowed Old John to light a small fire for them. She sipped her ale and stared unseeing into flames, her thoughts shrouding her like a dark malignant cloud. For weeks they had heard no word from Jacob. The house was virtually empty now, the land gone; all sold to pay government taxes levied against the families still loyal to the King. The food was dwindling fast and how much longer they could manage was questionable. The other servants had long since departed, forced to look elsewhere for work when Elisabeth couldn't pay their wages. Only Old John stayed, more out of loyalty than anything else. She was glad for his company, however; if it was not for him, she surely believed she would have gone mad from grief and loneliness by now. With a low throaty growl the dogs stirred at her feet, alert to some distant noise. She listened carefully, but could hear nothing beyond the wind howling around the old house. But both hounds jumped up and woofed softly, their ears pricked. Elisabeth stiffened when she heard a faint banging on the door. Reaching silently for the loaded musket she kept under her chair, she held it ready, her hands slightly shaking. The dogs leapt across the room at the sound of the outer door being opened and a sharp wind blew in, causing the fire to burst up the chimney in a cloud of orange sparks. Frantic barking ensued as the dogs jumped about in excitement and Elisabeth tightened her fingers on the stock, prepared to shoot whoever walked through the door. She had heard several reports of Parliament troops in the area recently and she wasn't about to have her honour taken without a fight. Old John limped in through the heavy oak door, a shadowy figure hidden behind him. "Who goes there!" demanded Elisabeth, sounding far more intimidating than she felt. "Has it been that long since you saw me, my darling?" spoke a familiar voice. When Old John stepped aside, Elisabeth saw immediately it was her beloved husband. Elisabeth dropped the musket with a cry and raced across the room to joyfully take Jacob in her arms. She held him tightly, feeling how cold and damp he was. His frame was painfully thin beneath the heavy clothing. They clung together wordlessly, the dogs licking their master's hand frantically. Old John backed away deferentially. "I'll be fetching the master a pot of ale and some of that bread, Miss Elisabeth," he said roughly. "Thank you John," Elisabeth replied, her voice choked with tears. "Come sit by the fire Jacob, you are frozen..." Jacob followed her across the room, his face grey with fatigue in the pale yellow light. He had not eaten properly for days and he was weak and exhausted. He knew it was incredibly dangerous to be here, but the lure of his wife was just too damned strong. She was all he had thought about in the weeks and months he had been away. Despite the fighting and the carnage of the battlefield, he had kept her face alive in his memory. He had prayed to God every night that he would live to see her again. When his regiment had disbanded temporarily, he had decided to make the hazardous journey home. It had taken him over a week to find his way back to Yorkshire from the South. Many times he had been forced to outwit bands of Parliamentary soldiers and he had been lucky so far. How long that luck lasted remained to be seen. He sat in the chair in front of the fire, his eyes closing in exhaustion while Elisabeth helped Old John prepare some food for him. It pained him to see the house as it was now, unkempt and almost empty – all the beautiful furniture sold or burnt as firewood. He recalled days of past, all the happy times spent here. Those times were gone forever; England was a dark place now and he despaired anything would ever be the same again. After he had eaten the meagre broth with bread, washed down with some weak ale, he felt a little better. As tired as he was, he listened intently to Elisabeth as she told him all the news and he quietly studied her while she talked. She had changed in the last few months. The hardship of day to day life had taken its toll upon her; he could see how the worn dress hung off her thin frame. She was still beautiful, though, and his body reacted to her as it always did, despite his immense fatigue. Old John was not doing so good either. Jacob had heard the harsh wracking cough from the kitchen and he knew it did not bode well. The man was a lot more frail than he had been, mainly as a result of several hard winters, but the lack of food and warmth were doing him no good at all. Jacob felt terribly guilty, but there was nothing he could do to help. It was dangerous to be here and he could not stay for long. The whole area was staunchly for Parliament. As his family had always supported Charles, his continued presence would only put his wife in danger. Elisabeth could see Jacob's eyes drooping in the warmth. "Come to bed, Jacob," she said gently. "You need to rest. John has lit a small fire in the bedroom, so it should be warm for a while." The bedroom was still damp and chilly, although the fire had taken the edge off the cold. Elisabeth pulled the heavy moth-eaten drapes across the small windows and they climbed under the thick blankets. The dogs stretched out on the threadbare rug in front of the hearth, snuffling and grunting in their sleep, their legs twitching as they chased phantom rabbits. Jacob pulled his wife close and immersed himself in the scent and feel of her soft body. Her head rested on his shoulder and he could feel her warm breath tickling him lightly. She began to stroke him gently, playing with the wiry hair and rubbing her hand across his small nipples. He turned on his side and faced her, the faint light emanating from the fire casting deep shadows across the room. Her dark hair fanned out over the pillows and her turquoise eyes glittered in the half light. "Make love to me," Elisabeth whispered, her voice breaking slightly with the depth of her emotions. She had been so lonely without him at her side; now she was complete again. Jacob did not reply; there was no need to. His tiredness faded as he pulled her close and kissed her hard, his cock beginning to throb with unexpected vigour. Their bodies melded together like a jigsaw puzzle, all the months of separation melting away. All that mattered now was seeking pleasure in each other's touch. Jacob explored the gentle curves of his wife's body, feeling subtle changes in the familiar landscape. Her breasts were heavy beneath her thin cotton chemise, her nipples taut and hard. His fingers brushed over the sensitive tips and she moaned a little, pushing her lower body into the curve of his hips. Her belly had a noticeable swell to it, a hardness that wasn't there before and he looked at her in surprise, a hopeful smile on his face. "Are you with child?" he asked reverently, hoping against hope that after all this time God had finally blessed them with a child. "Yes Jacob." Elisabeth smiled at him, her eyes shining. "Our baby will be born in the new year, God willing." She took his hand and he stroked her stomach in wondering delight at the burgeoning life within. It was amazing; she was so thin yet her belly was gently rounded. For a moment he felt paralysing fear at the thought of her having to cope all alone with her pregnancy. But he made a silent promise to himself that whatever happened, he would come back to her. Elisabeth pressed closer into him, wrapping her legs around his. Slowly, Jacob's hand moved lower, below the hem of the chemise, stroking the soft skin of her thighs. She made small mewling sounds and buried her face in his neck, biting hard at the skin there. By the time he reached that most sensitive part of her, she was more than ready for his touch. Her legs parted instinctively and he slipped his fingers between the slick folds of her flesh, moisture soaking his hand. He needed to feel her around his cock. It had been far too long. He wanted to bury himself within her eager body so the pleasure could blot out the horrors he'd witnessed. Pushing Elisabeth onto her back, Jacob pulled the chemise up and moved over her so that his cock was poised at her entrance. She stared into his eyes, her lips parted in lust, her cheeks flushed. With one firm thrust, Jacob eased himself into her tight channel, slowly sinking into her until he was fully sheathed. Elisabeth wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him inside her as deep as he could go. He gasped at the sensation and raised himself up a little on his arms, gazing down upon his beautiful wife. "I will always love you," he told her, staring at her intensely. She was everything to him; without her he was nothing. Bending to kiss her lips he began to move inside her. She gripped his shoulders and threw her head back in pleasure, eyes closed. They moved together, the sensations building to an irrevocable conclusion. Send Me an Angel Jacob paused, wishing to prolong their pleasure. He rolled over onto his back, pulling his wife with him so that they ended up with her astride him. Elisabeth smiled at him in the pale light, her hair cascading over her shoulders. The chemise slipped down and bunched around her waist. She rocked her hips, moving gently while she leant forward. Her beasts were half exposed, the dark nipples peaking through. Jacob pulled the cotton down and cupped the soft globes of flesh, rubbing her nipples with his thumbs. Elisabeth moved faster, sliding up and down his hard cock, leaning further forward and allowing him to take her nipples in his mouth. He pulled at them gently with his teeth, one then the other, sucking hard. "Oh Jacob..." she cried as she hit her peak, her body clenching around his shaft in ripples of ecstasy. He thrust into her harder and faster, feeling himself fast approaching his own end. The pleasure building until, with a gasp, Jacob burst into her, releasing all his pent up passion in endless waves. Spent, he rolled onto his side, taking her with him. Elisabeth pulled the blankets up and they fell asleep, still locked together, his wilted cock buried inside her. Dawn light broke through the drapes, a pale yellow glow. There was a light coating of ice on the glass and the fireplace was cold, the embers long since burnt out. Jacob stirred sleepily, aware he needed to leave and return to his regiment soon. He just wished he could stay; he did not want to leave Elisabeth again. The unbearable thought that he might never see her again lay heavy on his aching heart. A shout from outside made him jump; adrenaline coursed through his veins. The dogs leapt up and began to growl ominously, their hackles rising. Quickly, Jacob slid out of bed and pulled his britches and shirt on, then quickly his boots. More voices could now be heard outside and his blood ran cold. God help him, he must have been seen by someone. His foolishness had put them all in danger and he cursed himself for his weakness. All he could do was escape as quickly as possible before the house was searched. If the soldiers found nothing, they would, God willing, leave Elisabeth and John in peace. She awoke with a startled cry and he ran to her. "Soldiers are here, I must leave before they search the house. Quickly, get dressed - they will be banging on the door any second. I will go through the old passageway from the cellar and with a bit of luck, they won't see me." He could feel her fear but he had no time to reassure her. Kissing her quickly, he grabbed his jacket and ran through the bedroom door and down the stairs. Heavy thudding emanated from the main door and he heard Old John cursing as he shuffled down the hall. The cellar door was stiff and he made sure it was wedged shut behind him when he closed it. The sound of the men's voices faded as he followed the narrow tunnel away from the house and to the outlying buildings. He exited the outer door carefully, after listening to make sure there was no sound from the other side. The area was clear and he decided to make a run for it; all he had to do was cross the wide open yard and he would be out of sight in the woods. He thought he had made it until came the harsh cry and the crack of a musket. Down he fell, into the crisp frosty grass, sweet agony blasting through his body. He was vaguely aware of dogs barking and a woman screaming, and on some level he knew it was Elisabeth. The white hot pain faded away and his body felt suddenly cold, so cold, the chill creeping through his veins like ice. "Jacob! Don't leave me," Elisabeth's tears rained down on him and she collapsed to the ground beside him, stricken with grief. "I will always be with you," he tried to say, but he wasn't sure if she heard him or not. Everything faded to white and the last thing he heard was Elisabeth crying, "I love you, you can't leave me..." * * * Olivia sat in the College library late one evening, studying her books and making notes for the next essay she had to complete. The cavernous room was virtually empty; the only sounds the light footsteps of the ancient librarian replacing dusty tomes on high shelves. Her notes were spread out before her, page upon page of tightly written words. The essay needed to be handed in to her tutor by the end of the week and then she was free to leave for the Christmas break. She had already bought her train ticket and was looking forward to seeing her family again. She still had a few presents to buy, but she would hopefully be able to do some shopping over the next couple of days - if she ever finished the bloody essay. Sighing in consternation, she forced herself to concentrate on the words before her. Malachi sat nearby, watching the shadows play across her porcelain face. Her dark hair had been pulled back in a knot behind her head, but a few rebellious tendrils had escaped and were curling in ringlets round her shoulder. He could hear her jumbled thoughts as she tapped the pencil lightly on the worn wooden study table, her face screwed up in concentration. A strange feeling of affection and desire gripped Malachi as he watched her working. He longed to be able to talk to her and touch her. He could see the purity in her untarnished soul and his memories mingled with the sight of the flesh and blood woman before him. He was falling in love with her all over again and it troubled him. He wasn't allowed to have emotions like love; it simply wasn't done. He was meant to observe, but not interfere, with the lives of mortals, unless it was specifically requested. What he was doing was strictly forbidden and if he was found out, he would be severely reprimanded. It was almost as if fate had brought them back together again. At least that was what it felt like to Malachi, but he did not really understand why. He watched as Olivia sat, patiently writing her notes, until eventually she glanced at her watch and realised that it was late. The library would be closing shortly. Olivia hurriedly gathered her stuff together and shoved it in her bag. She wrapped her scarf around her neck in defence against the cold and slowly made her way outside and into the crisp night air. It was icy and several times she nearly slipped on the pavement. Eventually she reached the junction of Hampton Road and paused briefly to check if the road was clear. It was, so she stepped off the pavement and began to cross the wide expanse of tarmac, mentally going through her shopping list for Christmas. She never heard the car coming; it all happened so fast. The car was speeding and although the driver slammed on his brakes when he saw the girl crossing the road, he skidded on black ice. He careened out of control over the slippery road and headed straight for Olivia. Malachi saw all this happen as if in slow motion. Without considering his actions or the possible implications, he moved with preternatural speed and snatched Olivia out of the path of the skidding car. Olivia was vaguely aware of the sound of skidding tyres and the soft impact of a body thudding against her. Then... nothing; the world went dark. Malachi lay her down gently on the road and stood back up. The streetlights flickered out for a moment, plunging the street into darkness and a sudden bitter wind swept across, swirling a few stray leaves in its midst. Time stood still. Footsteps echoed in the unnatural silence and a figure emerged from the gloom. A tall figure in a Police Officer's uniform reached Malachi and stared at him for a long moment before speaking. "You shouldn't have interfered; there will be consequences now." The man's black eyes gleamed with a cold fire and he frowned in irritation. "She wasn't meant to die yet," Malachi retorted defiantly knowing full well that Death wouldn't be here for any other reason. Death sighed heavily before glancing over to the car, crumpled against a wall nearby. The driver lay slumped in his seat, his face buried in the steering wheel at an unnatural angle. "Somebody else will have to take her place then..." He turned on his heel and strolled towards the damaged vehicle, his shoes tip-tapping ominously in the frigid silence. Death reached toward the driver ... In a heartbeat he was gone. Olivia stirred. The lights flickered back on and the strange stillness dissipated. She opened her eyes and looked straight at Malachi, her confusion apparent. "Who are you?" she asked blearily. "I keep seeing you in my dreams and sometimes I think I see you in the day. Are you real?" Malachi didn't answer, but he leant down and kissed her gently. "I'll be back, I promise..." Already he could hear the voices calling him and he stiffened as he felt the celestial pull. Olivia heard his words and shivered as the memories reverberated inside her. She had heard those words before but she didn't understand how. The man gazed deeply into her eyes and she saw the love in his face. There came a blinding light and suddenly, he was gone. And Olivia's world went dark once again. * * * A week later, Christmas was over and Olivia was back in the library doing some research for yet another paper. The accident was still fresh in her mind but she had suffered no lasting ill effects other than a continuing propensity for strange dreams about the mysterious dark haired man. She thought about him now as she doodled on her pad. He had simply vanished that night and nobody else had seen him apart from her. She wondered if she had imagined him; or maybe he was her guardian angel, sent to protect her. Footsteps alerted her to another's approach and she glanced up curiously. The lights flickered off and on. A frisson of excitement swept through her veins like a jolt of electricity. Malachi strode purposefully across the scarred wooden floor, his dark hair curling over the collar of his jacket. He looked intently at Olivia, watching her reaction. His gaze was locked intently on her beautiful eyes, looking for signs of recognition. She gasped out loud; it was the man who had haunted her dreams and the one she had seen the night of the accident. "Who are you?" she whispered again. "My name is Malachi," he said simply. "It means Angel, but I'm mortal now." He reached out to touch her cheek, his fingers stroking the soft milky skin lightly. Her lips parted expectantly, her breathing quickened. Although she could not know him, she felt, somehow, that she always had. He was a stranger ... yet familiar to her. Her head buzzed with confusion and her notes slid off the study table and onto the floor un-noticed. "I don't understand..." she stated, watching him intently. "No, I don't suppose you do. I'm not sure I fully understand either, but here I am and here you are." He took her hand and held it tightly, staring into her soul. Malachi had given up a lot to be with her again. Meddling in fate and thwarting Death had caused him to be punished, and the punishment was being cast back down to earth as a mortal again. The only saving grace to this was that his memories were intact; he knew where to find Olivia. Sometimes lovers are meant to be together across time and space, so who was he to argue? All he knew was that he and Olivia had continued to find each other through many lifetimes and when he had met her once again, he had to be with her, consequences be damned. The fickle hand of fate might have another say in their future, but he had to take that chance. There was no way on this earth or any other he was about to leave his love again. "You are mine and we are meant to be together." Malachi said simply. Olivia listened to her heart and she knew he was right; the rest could take care of itself. Outside the tall library windows, snow began to fall in tiny perfect flakes. Soon the world was a magical winter wonderland once more. The two lovers embraced, oblivious to everything but each other.... * * * Thank you for reading my story. Please take a moment to vote and maybe let me know if you liked it. Your opinion matters to me – it's the reason I spend lots of time writing...