Chapter Two

Donovan paced back and forth in the dark cave. He'd been waiting for several hours already, and was frustrated to have to wait more. He couldn't believe it was taking that long. He'd practically hand delivered the innocent to the demon, and yet it was taking too long!

Brushing his oily black hair out of his face, he looked at the mortal watch on his wrist once more. It had been spruced up with a little dark magic here and there, but otherwise, it functioned as a regular watch. It was telling him that the demon was over two hours late. He'd promised to deliver the soul by then. Unfortunately, it seemed that that wasn't happening anymore.

A stone rattled in some nearby chamber. Surprised, Donovan conjured his crossbow up in black smoke, pointing it in the direction of the noise. Nothing was there. Donovan knew better than to let it go, however, and he sauntered over to the area, his crossbow still in hand. He caught a glimpse of something, but pretended not to see. Instead, he turned the other way and began to walk back to where he'd originally been standing.

He heard a small exhalation of breath and smiled cunningly. All at once, he disappeared in a swirl of dark orbs and reappeared next to the demon that had been watching him. The demon jumped and pulled an athame out of his pocket. Before he could do anything with it, however, Donovan jammed the tip of his arrow against the creature's neck.

"Move… so much as swallow… and you will die," he threatened the creature.

The green-skinned demon dropped the knife, and Donovan allowed the demon enough room to be able to breathe without fear of getting his throat punctured.

"Now tell me," he hissed. "Why were you watching me? Where you spying or thinking of vanquishing me as my back was turned?"

The demon shook his head. "You sent one of us behind that innocent, remember? I'm just reporting back!" His voice was shaking with fear.

Donovan stepped back, realizing why the green demon looked so familiar. "Ah, I see," he said as he leant over and picked up the athame the demon had dropped on the floor. "Well? Where is my innocent's soul? You promised to have it here for me hours ago!" The apparent calmness on his face was contrasting greatly with the anger of his voice. There was something decidedly terrifying about his reaction.

"Y-yes, we remember," the demon hesitated. "We don't have it, though."

"Well, my green-skinned friend," Donovan said, balancing the athame on the tip of his middle finger, "then what precisely is stopping me from driving this knife into your oath-breaking neck and sending you to hell?" He made as if to throw the dagger, and the demon instinctively cowered.

"No, no! You don't understand!" Donovan paused curiously. The demon, noticing this, pressed his advantage. "The one we sent was intercepted by a witch!"

Donovan was still for a moment, before he began to laugh. "I thought you would at least give me a decent excuse! Your clan is well-known down here for getting jobs done effectively after all. What Is a witch but a simple hiccup in the scheme of my plan? Was the good little witch too powerful for you?" he mocked the demon.

The demon flushed, his cheeks turning darker green rather than red. "Yes, she was. " Donovan once more made as if to throw the knife. "But she had the power to orb! It was unexpected!"

Donovan stopped himself from murdering the demon. Instead, he stepped away from the crouching figure. "She could orb, huh?" he spoke quietly. He glared down at the pathetic creature still trying to hide from him. "Looks like this is your lucky day," Donovan said.

The demon looked up from his position. "Really?" he asked.

Donovan nodded, tossing the athame back at the demon. The green-skinned being caught it with a relieved look on his face. The darklighter took one more step away, and the demon stood up. "Yes, it is," Donovan confirmed.

The demon followed Donovan a bit, extremely grateful not to have been killed yet. Suddenly, the darklighter whirled around and with a terrifying accuracy, inserted an arrow straight into the demon's chest. "Why?" gurgled out of the creature's throat.

Donovan grinned, his too-white teeth glistening despite the darkness. "Because I killed you swiftly. Not too many would do that. I, at least, was merciful."

The demon exploded in a mess of dark green goo. Donovan escaped getting stained by it as he orbed out briefly. Once he'd reformed, standing in the puddle, he looked down and noticed the athame. The demon must have dropped it in the moment when he'd died. A disgusted look on his face, the darklighter picked it up. He glanced at the symbol on it, before balancing it thoughtfully in his hand.

He was a decent tracker. Not particularly good, but he could find those he really wanted to. The witch who had destroyed the other demon might possess the sister athame to the one he was holding, so that would make the process a lot easier. Sister blades always called out to each other.

Whispering ancient dark magic, Donovan watched as the blade began to glow. With a sinister smile, he allowed dark orbs to take hold of him and transport him up into the Mortal World.

-)-(-

He appeared in the middle of a busy sidewalk. People were walking around him, each looking to get to a different location where they would engage in mundane and boring activities. Nobody spared a glance at Donovan. Luckily, he was shrouded in dark magic, which meant that it was difficult to see him unless someone consciously tried to seek him out. And if they did, he wouldn't particularly stand out from anybody else. He appeared to be a sallow-skinned and dark-haired young man barely in his twenties. His greasy black hair which hung in strings over his face to his shoulders and his black clothes weren't particularly remarkable in any way, shape, or form. There were probably thousands of people who looked exactly like him in the busy city of San Francisco. If necessary, he could blend in.

Unfortunately, so could the witch. Donovan was having a hard time picking her out. She had to be somewhere close by. The knife in his pocket had led him here for a reason. One of the lights turned red, and several people began to cross the street. One of them was going against the current, heading in the opposite direction. It was a young girl. She couldn't be much older than sixteen. She had dark brown hair that hung halfway down her back and a round, happy face. She was carrying a backpack that proudly showed off her name for all to see. It was 'Melinda'.

For some reason, Donovan felt attracted to this girl. Without noticing, he'd taken a step in her direction. Carefully glancing around and making sure he was still unseen, Donovan pulled the athame out of his pocket. It was glowing softly. Even as Donovan noticed the pulse of light coming from his weapon, came a similar pulse coming from the girl's backpack.

Donovan smiled creepily. He tucked the blade back into his dark pants and began walking after the girl. He didn't know who she was, but he had a vague idea. One thing was for certain. She most definitely wasn't what she seemed to be. She was no innocent schoolgirl, but a witch who'd somehow managed to vanquish the demon that Donovan had sent after the innocent he'd laid out so beautifully.

There was an art to killing an innocent, and Donovan was always careful to make his plans work out perfectly. Now, however, the stupid girl had ruined it, and Donovan wanted to make her pay for everything that she'd done. She wouldn't be able to mess with his plans anymore. He would make certain of it.

She seemed so happy now, with a special spring in her step, and the way a smile kept drifting about her lips. No doubt she was excited about having vanquished the demon, eager to do it again. She wouldn't be foiling some other evil plan in the future, though. It was amusing, though, to let her believe that she would even live to the next day.

Donovan usually liked to work nice and slowly, but he was very upset at the moment. In fact, he was downright angry, though he didn't show it. His face was impassive as he walked behind the young girl, not willing to know more about her before she was dead. She was just a stupid hiccup, as he'd mentioned to the demon. Hiccups had to be dealt with.

The girl, Melinda, paused to look around herself. She was the kind of person who looked both ways before crossing the street. Good witches usually were. Donovan gritted his teeth and began to call upon his magic. It wouldn't be long now before she fell under his spell. With a final effort, a black cloud left his hand and landed upon the girl. She didn't notice it, though, and neither did the few people around her.

Donovan laughed quietly to himself as he faded into the shadows of the streets. He was prepared to enjoy himself nicely for the rest of the day.


(A/N) For some reason, I enjoy creating evil characters. There was the Seer in my first two stories, and Malachi in the third one. Now, it's a guy called Donovan. He's pretty cool, don't you agree? Evil and insane, but cool nonetheless. Poor Melinda, she has no idea what she's gotten herself into. Now, Donovan has used his magic on her. What do you think it will do? Well, the summary of this story gives enough of a hint, but I still want to hear your thoughts!

As usual, thanks to those people who added this to their Alerts and Faves, but super special awesome thanks to my wonderful reviewers: Fanycharmed and M. Joseph Day. You guys rock!

As usual, please please leave me your thoughts in the little box below. Can you see it? It's so sad and empty! And the only way to make it happy is to fill it with words! Yup! So you should definitely do that! I mean, would you just let it stay sad? I wouldn't, especially when it has big adorable virtual eyes that look up at you... Trust me, they're there... Please review! And I'll see you next week with the third chapter! Bye!