The wind was light as it swept through the large graveyard on the early winter evening. Sweeping up some snow gathered thickly on the rooftops and letting it fall over the cemetery, lightly blanketing the recently cleared paths with a new thin lair of white. There was a serene quiet to the place. No birds sang, having weeks before flown south for the colder months. Only the sound of the chimes on the trees showed any sign of disturbance to the place.

The ideal of calmness continued into the very appearance of the place. Leafless trees now holding icicles in replacement of foliage. Sitting like a tired mother of kittens as her young played and hung over her with nothing more then the occasional sigh of shifting branches to show her calm repose. Snow gathered wherever it could that wasn't on a main path or important grave, resting itself after the storm of the night before, content to just sit and melt so it could return on another day. Squirrels and other creatures slumbered in their warm burrows, prepared to sleep away the months to come and not wake again until the birds returned and the lazy snow melted into spring.

The small parish at the back of the land had a tranquil ambience to it. Stain glass windows showed deceiving scenes of open roses and summer gardens. The main window having a hypnotic, relaxing, flower-like pattern to it. The angels on the corners of the building lounged on carved clouds, holding a pitcher off of any edge of the cloud, another icicle hanging from the places where water would pour. A few more angels played, one of the mischievous cherubs resembling cupid holding an arrow down toward the yard, waiting to unleash love on the unwary of his antics.

The gates around the yard were a little less welcoming. The high iron wrought fences holding tips at the top. Snarling gargoyle faces warded off children and many not of the parish or visiting passed on friends or family from coming to the small place. A haven of god protected by demons.

The wicked appearance of the walls didn't deter a young woman from opening them and slipping inside, her footsteps softly crunching on the snow underfoot as her breath showed lightly from under the hood of her think cloak.

The long cloak seemed a bit too large for her as it drug just a little on the ground behind her. The end of the deep green cloth almost black from being wet after being drug over the ground. She wore Grey, White, and Black dress that was a beautiful combination of colors. The wide skirt was the black, while the upper half of the dress slowly changed from black to shades of gray until it became white around the collar and sleeves. It was of an exceptional quality but seemed to have a bit of wear and tear to it, not as bright as it had once been. However well it was kept, time changes everything, and it's age was shown in the faded colors. In contrast she wore new ladies gloves that were black.

She walked slowly though the graveyard, not worried of seeing anyone else here in this place, now knowing that she was being watched however. Blissfully unaware of the pitiful creature that stalked her from the growing shadows of the evening. She sat at a bench that surrounded a small and currently unused fountain of the goddess Artemis. Her divine being sat on a fountain smiling as she poured a wine glass from the heavens, reclining joyfully on a quarter moon. The woman sat at the fountain, a soft smile creasing her features for just a moment as she lowered her hood carefully with both hands.

Her face wasn't totally French, holding a bit of Russian or perhaps German with the high cheekbones and deep features. She let long silky black hair fall out of the hood where it had been held, it was a bit dull, as though it wasn't cleaned as often as it could have been. She had a well proportioned face, thing but very red lips that were in a slight frown, as though trapped there after holding the expression for too long a period. Her eyes are what truly gave away her sadness though. A brilliant emerald washed green that held some vast anguish. Some waking body, with a dieing soul.

She watched the fountain silently, eyes looking over the extreme detail the probably now dead and forgotten artist had painstakingly put into it. Not even a name had been left on the monument.

The man watching her kept easily to the lengthening shadows of the yard, daring to get closer even than the most masterful spies. He knew he wouldn't be seen, he knew he was the best. There was no question in his mind of his ability to remain unseen by this girls eyes. A sadly immortal genius…perhaps not all his work had been unfruitful however. She seemed to admire his old statue.

"I've had less productive beauty…made forever to live trapped…"

He forced his mind away from that unnecessary path, pushing the memories that haunted his mind so vividly away as he instead concentrated on this young and infuriating girl. Didn't she know this place was suppose to be haunted? That many murders had happened here to the unwary over the years at night, when none on the streets were ever truly safe. Now she had just nonchalantly sauntered in and had a seat at his bench. It both enraged and fascinated him, he had never raised his hand to a woman, but they grew exasperatingly more insistent of their rights while becoming less of a lady and more of someone that wished they had been born a man.

If he had thought it was one of those women, he might not have hesitated to make a meal of her. But she had such a delicate and curious shyness to her that he simply knew that wasn't the case with her.

"Apple perfume?" he thought.

He could smell it suddenly, almost taste it, in the air. He hadn't noticed it right away, so lightly it had been applied.

"So very sad…" his thoughts continued as he watched her, "no, she is not one of the less tolerable females. The few that exist."

He backed away from her then, his attention moving to the door of the parish. He watched the father exist and walk over to the woman. Another barely tolerable being that, making plans to meet with women here at this time. A pastor no less. An amused smile passed his lips, so much for the holiness of the world.

The father was old, probably in his seventy's. He was bent over slightly, age trapping him in the position that would slowly make him descend further. His face was friendly a smile on it, the wrinkles there proof that he was quite comfortable in it. He had kind brown eyes under white bushy eyebrows. His hair was the same white as the powder on the ground. He wore a catholic fathers outfit. Very simple but clean, a smile came to his old and wrinkled features and he walked to the girl slowly.

"Diana," he whispered after a moment, a soft almost reverent tone of voice, "please, come inside."

"But it's so nice out here," she said after another moment. Her voice an entrancing soft musical thing. So sad in it's tone that it could have pulled tears from the most stout of men. It certainly drew the man in the shadows further toward her again.

"Can we speak out here?"

"Yes," the father said, a sigh escaping him as he watched her, "what do you need my child?"

"A reason," she answered, looking at her hands as a child would, as though she had done some great wrong.

"A reason for what child?" the father asked patiently, a kindness in his voice as he sunk slowly to his seat, the effort of getting there taking a little while.

The man turned his head, chancing closer again. Drawn to this oddly exotic woman, very curious of the whole thing. Her response catching even he by surprise.

"For living," she said softly.

The long pause after her answer became painfully obvious to the man watching. He glared at the minister unseen hating him for not saying something, anything , to this poor girl. The chimes only rang softly in the background, more snow blowing off the ceiling and the trees to swirl around the three lightly. The silence growing to a near intolerability…

"I am sorry father,' her voice finally broke the silence, "I have sinned."

She continued to watch her lap. Convinced after the long pause that her thoughts were indeed sinful.

"No child," the father corrected her quickly, "you are sad. God forgives all his children. He will give you strength. All happens under him for a reason."

She just nodded, but it was so painfully obvious that she was just being agreeable, that she didn't believe him at this point. Her eyes were devoid of happiness, any slight joy at all. Just some large mechanical marionette…she had lost all faith.

The man moved closer again to her, so close and yet no where near her. He wanted to reach out, stroke her cheek, and he wanted to slap the father. He resisted both temptations, getting involved would only mean trouble. He was suppose to only watch from the sidelines. But…still…

He moved gracefully to the side as the father moved close to him. Narrowing his eyes on the man in an unexplainable hate. The emotion so strongly came from him that the shiver that came from the priest was not from the cold.

The father bent to her and patted her hands though, assuming the shake was just age and the elements of the cold mountain atmosphere. His hands were even wrinkled as though he had been in the water for too long a period of time. Their feel that of the skin of some shaved dog.

"Child," he started softly, "I have known you since you were born. I knew your father and your mother since they were children. I know you cannot begin to express the pain you feel, but I was there for them. I only hope that I can be of some small comfort to you. The church is always open to you if you need it. You should get home soon though, this place is not safe once the sun falls. Your parents would be worried about you if they knew you were here. You will find your way."

She just nodded for a while and looked back at the fountain, mumbling a quiet concurrence to leave soon. He frowned, patted her hand again, and walked inside after a moment with a sigh, the sound of his rough coughing reaching outside after he went in, so quiet it was.

The man in the shadows slipped closer again, watching her but remaining apart from her. His heart fell slightly when she started to cry, why was it people had to come to this place for this. No one had even died. It mattered little. The woman was beautiful. She was familiar…so very familiar…the daughter of the innkeeper? That was it.

She sniffed, pushing the tears from her eyes, "I want so much more then this…"

The whisper was not loud, but he didn't need any sort of keen hearing, not at all. He could hear her easily. He eavesdropped with intense curiosity for this girl. Not too interesting in getting out to hunt just yet.
She broke down into further tears, her mumbles barely audible to the man. The sun setting but he only watched her, not worried about playing a ghost for the time being. Wondering quietly if there was anything that he could do to help. He could hardly expose himself to her. There would be a huge fiasco, and he couldn't afford it with his plans right now.

"Why do I even care?" he asked himself, "this will only be a problem to everything I've worked so hard for. I've murdered people without a thought, drained the life of women as beautiful between reading the chapters of a book."

The mystery only furthered his curiosity of her. Then a sudden outburst drew his attention.

"I want so much more then this! Trapped forever in the same life as my parents and grandparents…" she sighed, looking toward the heavens as though asking for some help, " settling down, getting married. Having fourteen little children all named after other members of the family. Being the little wife…"

Her strength seemed to fail her though as she fell to her knees continuing to cry.

He had taken a step forward, almost given away his position. His mind screamed at him for his moment of weakness, he agreed with it on this occasion. Again utterly exasperated by this woman. No one had made him do a thing he hadn't thought out for a century, and yet here he was, almost ready to walk out and comfort her. The idea still nagging at him under the surface, but he secured and kept it there for the time. Nothing would control him. He simply refused.

Then an idea hit him. A grin coming to his lips that would frighten any of his boyars into not leaving their rooms for a month. A gift she seemed to want. The asker can't be picky after all. Less than a gift from heaven, but something greater. A gift from hell. What better then a different life then a chance to live forever? Yes…what a marvelous idea. He would have to be patient however. Take it all very slowly. Time however, was one thing he had in spades. He laughed lowly as he left the grounds, let the laugh and the slamming of the gate frighten her if it would. There were so many things to plan!