Subj: An Orphan's Prayer Pt.1 (Adult-Xover)
Date: 12/5/99 3:08:21 PM Central Standard Time
From: marcos1

1933 NYC
A Foundling Home
Christmas Eve

~~~

Annie couldn't sleep. She kept thinking about the orphans of the world. How lonely they were. How lost. They just wanted someone to love them. Her mind was on one particular orphan--an orphan ghost. Her name was Sarah. She had first met Sarah one night, a night that Miss Hannigan had locked her in a closet....

Annie was sobbing. It was cold and she sure was hungry. She was also more than a little afraid. Strange, scary, figures seemed to form in the darkness of the closet. She knew that it was just her imagination, but yet-- Then suddenly she heard the sound of flute music. It was to the tune of London Bridge.

"Don't cry Annie. Everything will be all right. I just know it will. My brother Barnabas will save us. If only I could find him." The little girl's voice said softly.

"Who are you? Did Miss Hannigan lock you in here too?"

"My name is Sarah. I come from far away."

~~~

The home of Oliver Warbucks
The richest man in the world

~~~

Angelique felt so happy. She had fallen in love. It had started out just another plan thought of by Diabolos and her ruthless brother Nicholas. An idea formed in demon minds deep in the nether world, capture Grace Farrell, personal secretary to Oliver Warbucks, substitute Angelique, put a love spell on Warbucks, and in turn gain control of the most powerful war factories in the world. It was an attempt to change the outcome of W.W.II. In this new time stream, the Axis powers would win. Hitler would not be defeated. Death and suffering would rule supreme. The suffering index would be so great. It had given Diabolos goose pimples, just to think of it. But now everything had changed. Angelique was in love. It was all she could think about.

"Angel," Oliver Warbucks said, "you seem lost in thought my dear." The bald man sat at his desk. He was looking over figures, figures that should be depressing. His factories were slowing down in production, with a profit levels that had never been lower, but yet despite this, he felt happy. Angelique was just so beautiful! He kept thinking about asking her that question: would she be his wife? He hoped so and would give away all his fortune if need be, to win her hand.

Angelique reached for his hand. She smiled. "No, everything is just fine Oliver. I was just thinking about how happy I am..." She paused in sudden panic. "I'd forgotten...President Roosevelt called."

"I know I already talked with him," Oliver said, gently. "Isn't it just like a Democrat to talk business on Christmas Eve."

Angelique breathed a sigh of relief. "Was it anything important?" She sat in Oliver's lap. It always felt so good. She had lived for a thousand years, lived many different lives, had many different names---Morgana, Cassandra, Emerald, Goddess of the Night, Angelique, but never had she felt so safe in a man's arms, except perhaps with Barnabas, but she didn't want to think about him. She had really made a mess of that whole affair.

"No, nothing important," Oliver replied. "At least nothing more important than this." He could feel his maleness getting hard, pushing up against her. He was not a virgin, but some times he felt like one, having never known such desire before meeting Angelique. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling her nipples through her white blouse. "Mmm, I have a suggestion to make, my dear."

"I think I know what it is," snickered Angelique. She rubbed her hips against his hard penis. His brown oxford pants did very little to disguise his massive erection. Oliver Warbucks was extremely well hung. "You make the case quite persuasively...let's go to bed."

Later that night, near the hour of midnight, Angelique lay in bed, listening to the crackle of the fireplace. She was pleasantly covered with sweat and the pungent smells of hours of lovemaking. Oliver Warbucks was snoring peacefully next to her. She felt so content. But then she heard the music. It was the sound of a solitary flute. The music sounded sweet, the tune familiar, but it filled her heart with dread and fear.

"Angelique," the little girls voice said, "you have lived long and hurt many people, but now comes your time to pay, this is your Judgment Day."

"What are you talking about?" Angelique asked, sitting up in bed. "Go from here ghost...or I will curse you to forever walk the Earth. I have great power. I am a daughter of Diabolos."

"There are forces much greater," the little girl replied, "forces that make your Diabolos seem a mere toy, a toy of children, small and only allowed for amusement." She moved from the shadows of the room, dressed in eighteenth century clothes..

Angelique stared at her in horror "Sarah Collins, return to your grave."

"I will not," Sarah said, "and neither will you."

The room burst into a powerful white light. Oliver still slept peacefully, but the light burned Angelique. The pain was terrible,
hurting more inside than out. "Stop this...I can't bear it," Angelique pleaded.

"I will," Sarah said, "but you must do everything I say."

Angelique nodded and the light faded into the darkness of the room, only the light from the fireplace remained. The light had been the celestial beacon that normally only existed inside the walls of Heaven. Evil could not exist in it's wake. Angelique trembled and waited for her orders. She had no choice.

To be continued--