For love or Gold
CHAPTER 7
The Deadman didn't live in a tradition neighbourhood, nor in a little white bungalow with a white picket fence around it. He had created a home worthy of his nature. It was created to look like a sixteenth century stone church, made from large stone bricks. The windows were decorated in stain glass with pictures of the dark side of the bible all along the length of it. Marble gargoyles surrounded the roof peeks as giant vines covered much of the outside walls. The yard was well kept and parked in the oval driveway was a big black new looking pick-up truck. The gardens were filled with flowers of a multitude of color in the sunlight, a little oasis in the middle of Death Valley.
The inside wasn't filled with pews and an alter, it was made to be comfortable. The living room was the most decorated room in the church. The ceiling was as high as the peeked roof, with the golden looking wood braces. Two stain glass windows were on each side and a large gothic style fireplace was at the far corner. The floor was made of black marble and the walls were a rich crimson. One long black leather couch, and a high back chair sat around the fireplace on a pure white fur rug. Opera style candle holders with lit white tapered candles stood all around the room. On the other wall was a grand staircase, made in black marble and silver trim. Just to the left of the stairs was an opening to a hallway. A large portrait of the Deadman in his Ministry days hung over the lit fireplace.
Kay laid on the couch covered in a thick black fleece blanket, her head was resting on Mark's lap as he sat at her side, holding her with one arm, and her hand with his other hand. They hadn't said a word to each other, they didn't need to. He could feel her pain as if he was feeling it himself. The agony of loosing the people she loved the most, not even the power of the goddess could make it right. He could tell her that death was a part of nature as was life, but he thought it didn't help the matter.
He was at a loss to help her, but at least this seemed to have slowed her crying. Just to feel his arms around her had calmed the little witch, her thoughts raced as to how much she missed them, whishing she had spent more time with them. But her curiosity had always gotten the better of Kay, she always felt she had to go when the wind blew. Traveling was so much her nature. But the time spent in other countries and left little time to spend with her family. She secretly whished that if given the chance again, she wouldn't have run off from them. She loved her family so much.
It was deep into the night when Mark had noticed that her crying had stopped, he leaned over to see if she had fallen asleep. Seeing her eyes closed and the sounds of slumber escaped her lips gave it away. He smiled, he had wondered how much sleep she's had in the last few days. He gently slid out from under her and cradled her into his arms, careful as not to wake her. She was light in his arms, carrying her to his bed was no task. He quietly crept into the room and laid her on the bed. Slowly, Mark removed her coat and gently slipped off her boots. He moved the covers back, moved her back on the bed, then delicately covered her up again. He kissed her once more on her head and began to crept back out the room, the ringing of her cell phone startled the Deadman, he was quick to leave the room and closed the door behind him, hoping that the loud and annoying sound didn't wake her.
Mark pulled out the little flip phone and opened the clam, he gazed at the caller ID. The Animal's name was showing. How much of a fucking would it put if he answered instead of Kay? Batista would definitely frenzy, keeping his mind on her instead of the match. It would be too easy. Too much of an opportunity to mess with his opponent's mind, something like this doesn't come by often. He would be a fool to pass this up.
He moved his thumb over the keys, and pressed down on the power button. The phone shut off, the call was never answered. He slipped it back into her coat pocket and proceeded back by the fire downstairs. He wondered to himself if he was growing soft?
He laid on the couch and watched the fire, the light from the fire was the only illumination in the room. He looked up over the fire at the painting, the Deadman's menacing and conniving soul peered back at him in disgust.
"Don't look at me like that…" Mark had never taken to talking to himself, a glass goblet of cold red wine appeared in his hand, "…I did think about it."
Yes, he was going soft for that girl. The little witch who first wanted to take him on, stuck her nose into his business, and yet, he was going to scare the shit right out of her. Maybe even make her loose her mind for a little while. But he never did.
There was a fire in those dark eyes, he thought he had caught a reflection of himself in those beautiful eyes, a reflection of his true form faced back at him. He knew then and there was something special about this girl. The old Undertaker, the one that hung from the wall above the fire place, he would definitely had taken the opportunity. He may have done worst to Kayla in the end.
Mark sighed as he took a drink from his goblet, he had absolutely no urge to use this situation to his advantage. He would fuck with Batista's head without using Kay, he would not have any of her involvement in the battle ahead. A smile crept on his cold lips, it would drive Batista mad thinking he was after Kay, but he wasn't.
He shouldn't be thinking this way, thinking of how she could be used, but he wouldn't. He could never hurt her, just watching her suffer through the death of her parents was torture enough for him. With nothing that he could do to stop the pain, except perhaps make her forget them? But that would hurt her in the end. Just the though of her believing he would hurt her, he couldn't bare it. She was susceptive at first, but now, she called to him in her time of need, and deep inside of that cold undead body, the Reaper had answered that call without hesitation.
No, there was much more to this. He was attracted to her in a way he never thought. He was thinking like a man, wanting a woman. He had realized that he cared deeply for her, the moment he was in a dark abyss and he heard her voice call to him and bring him back to life before the Vodu could kill him. She had risked her life to save him, and he in turned saved her. When she had left, it created a void with in his soul, He wished he had not let go of her. He wanted her to stay with him, but could he ask her of that?
She was human, he was not. He wasn't even a man! He was Death, that's what it came down to. He couldn't give her a normal life, a life that she deserved. The little picture perfect home in a quiet neighbourhood, a back yard filled with children playing around. She would have barbeque parties and girl's night outs, packing school lunches and making sure hubby had gotten to work on time. She deserved someone who would come home to her every night and take care of her, she needed to be with another mortal like herself.
Just the though of her being in the arms of another man hit him hard, harder than the betrayals of his brother Kane. He could just stay away from her, let her live her life without him. But he just couldn't do it. When he felt her call him, he rushed to her side. He knew he would every time. Within his heart, he knew he had fallen for her. He had never met someone with so much passion, so much life! She knew what he was and wasn't afraid of him! It was wonderful to talk to someone about anything except destruction, which seemed to be the only topic that Kane would talk about. She was intelligent, and humble, he loved the way she was herself around him. And he liked it every time she laid her head on his chest, to feel her warm breath on his cold skin was heaven. He always was lost in her eyes, eager to please her anyway he could. He would definitely torture and kill anyone who would hurt her, he wanted to protect her and make sure she was safe with him.
But still, he could only be her friend, and that is what he would do. Regardless to where her journeys would take her, he would always be there for her, no matter what.
He though of her and recalled her delicate features, the way her red hair bounced as she walked, the smile that seem to make him rise with in, and there was that sweet, sweet laugh out of those soft lips. His free hand moved over his groin and began to rub around it, just thinking of her was stirring to feelings back up. Mark sat up and looked up the stairs, she would definitely sleep the night away, there was no chance for her to come down any time soon. He took another sip from his glass and laid it down on the marble floor and laid back down, he freed his enlarged member and began to think of her again. He remember her perfume, how it filled him with desire. His hand moved faster as her face came into his mind, how her arms felt so good around him. He could feel his climax near as the smell of her supple skin came back to haunt him, her touch could drive him in a lustful frenzy.
The building shaking as the kitchen water pipes bursting woke him from his fever dream, Mark instantly sat up and looked around. The earth was definitely moving as the urn on the fireplace mantel was knocked down from its place and the giant painting over danced on the wall. He could feel the power serge through the house, it was not like anything he had felt before. His immediate thought was Kayla, he pulled up his pants and zipped then, he didn't want her to think of anything as he ran into the room, but the door wouldn't budge. He could hear things being thrown around the room, big objects!
Mark threw all his unnatural strength against the wooden door, it finally began to give away. He finally entered the room, in aw of that was happening. Most of the furniture and anything else that wasn't attached to the floor around the bed swirled around, banging into the wall the bed sat against. The candles shot out flames as long as his arms in the air, the ground still shook and the water sprayed out of the fixtures in the master bathroom. What shocked him the most was Kay, who was stilling up on the bed, unmoving, unnaturally still.
Her eyes were black, her lips were moving. Mark tried to get close to her, even scream out her name, but she didn't or couldn't hear him. It seemed that she was unknowing allowing her natural powers loose in the room, and that power was great. It was giving the stone walls a good thrashing, as well as everything else in the house. If he didn't stop her soon, there wouldn't be anything left of his home.
To be continued.
