Heart of Ashes

Evelyn Cromwell

Evelyn danced across her kitchen floor as music blared out of the little radio she kept on her counter. She was so glad to be home after her weekend away with friends, and she intended to thoroughly enjoy the rest of her evening alone. She'd slipped into a pair of baggy pyjama shorts and a tank top. She wiggled her red-nailed toes on the cold tiles. It was half past nine and she was making pizza, this was something she wouldn't normally do but she was so hungry.

There was a knock at the door, which startled her, and she whipped her head around in fright.

"Who th..." she began muttering but the knocking got louder.

"Alright, I'm coming!" she shouted.

She wondered who could possibly be calling at that time. She went to the door and looked through the peep hole; all she saw was black. So she opened it. She would have immediately slammed it shut again if she hadn't been so surprised. The man who stood on her porch was easily six feet tall or more. He had a very nice jaw shape and sculpted lips. His red-black hair hung just past his shoulders and his skin was pale as porcelain. He wore a wide-brimmed, black fedora and a long, black coat. A pair of sunglasses covered his eyes but she knew they were red. He had a suitcase in one gloved hand and a raven in a cage in the other.

He pushed past her and closed the door and proceeded to close the curtains.

"Wh... what are you doing here and how did you get in?" Evelyn was stunned.

He let the glasses slide down on his knows and looked at her over the rim, "The same way I did the first time; the owner of the house permitted me entrance."

She blinked, "But this is my father's house."

He let out a sharp, sarcastic laugh, "Your father's house? I suppose you also believe it's Buckingham Palace?"

"I... I don't understand," she stammered, "my father..."

"Your father is dead," Caine cut her off.

She could hardly believe what she was hearing, "How?"

"His heart was..." he tilted his head from side to side, "extracted."

"But how?"

"Violently."

"By whom or what?"

He sighed, "By me, now tell me where I can put this."

Horror struck and then anger, "You what?"

"I killed your father, I'm very sorry about that but he was a traitorous bastar..."

She slapped him so hard her own hand stung, "Get out of my house."

A smile appeared on his lips, "My house. Now put this somewhere dark will you?"

"How dare you!"

"How dare I what?" he arched a brow, "come into my own home and ask the resident - who's bills and university fees I've been paying - to put my things in the room she wouldn't mind me staying in? Or how dare I kill the man you used to call 'father' because he was a traitorous," he caught her hand before it made contact with his cheek, "bastard?"

She gritted her teeth, "You're the bastard," she hissed, "and my father's been paying for my education."

A wicked smile appeared on his lips, "Is that what you think?"

He held the suitcase and cage out to her and she looked at him incredulously, "You know what I think? I think you can go to hell, you and your raven."

"Very well," he said, "I will find an adequate space."