• Paris 1857.
    The stars were dark tonight. Their brilliant light drowned out by the city’s light. The moon doe, stood proud in her radiant, knowing no matter how bright the city got, she would still rule over it.
    It was past midnight when a lone creature walked the drunken street, his face grim, eyes cast down. His lips parted in a sadden sigh that was carried out in the cold night breeze, unaware of the danger that was lurking behind him…till it was too late.
    He was tackled to the floor, his pale face connecting painfully with the hard alley floor. He bit back a cry that threatened to leave his shocked throat. A smile passed his lips.
    He was flipped over to face his attacker. And there it was, the cold, shimmering blade of the dagger being pressed against his throat. “OK kid, scream and I’ll kill you.” The man had dark hair and eyes, typical in this part of the world. He smelled of alcohol and drugs.
    He felt the man’s hand in his pocket and then in the other. There was an angry grunt and the weight on his stomach shifted as he glared down at him. “Where the hell is your money!” he screamed.
    He only smirked, one pale, thin hand reached up to brush back white bangs. “I have no need for such things.” His voice was soft as his lips and tongue formed out each word with perfect ease.
    The man stood, taking the teenager up with him. He didn’t like beating up people, but did he spent all night stalking this kid only to get nothing? Hell no!
    Forcing him up to the wall, he extended his arm. Knuckles ready for the punch. He through his punch down with blinding force, only to be caught with the minimum of ease by the young man’s grip.
    The man screamed in shock as his fist began to burn. A red light glowed from the lad’s palm. His shock turned to fear as bat like wings burst from the young man’s back. The lads eyes glowing red with absolute discus.
    "You have no idea what you got yourself into!" The young lad grasped him by the arm, his wings flapped once and before he knew his feet left the ground. Dangling in the air like a ragged doll the man screamed for help as the demon laughed out saying
    “Who’s screaming now? Will you do it again? I don’t think so” The man’s eyes grew big in fear.
    “No, please… Don’t kill me, please.” The breeze filled the man’s face as he fell. Shocked he said nothing. His words pinched by the fear of his life flashing before him, Inches from the ground. Damien the lad grasps the man by the neck placing him back on his feet, without a struggle he bites into the man’s wrist, disgusted with the dirt of the thief; spits out the blood, not letting it slip down his pale throat. Damien just stands their just staring at the man, one of his eyebrow’s lift as he tell him “you discuss me, so coward that you tremble when it comes to killing people, you should have just struck the knife in my back and taken whatever I had in my pockets.”