It was a busy morning at Boucher Agency. The fall line had to be
photographed by the end of summer or they would be woefully behind
schedule. Karen's tired eyes were beginning to have a sun spot type of
reaction to the many flashes going off at once. I'm going to be blind by
the time I'm thirty if I don't find a new line of work and soon. That
Dominiqe woman is getting on my nerves. Hell I'd settle for a different
agency at this point, one that gives us lunch breaks. At least there's only
another nine hours to go until I can retire to my empty apartment, joy. My
mother always used to say that sarcasm shows in a picture so I will think
happy thoughts. Ok, I hope my two timing ex rots in hell that happy
enough?
While Karen was posing for the camera an ink colored vein of shadow hugged the perimeter of the room and slipped under the door into the dressing room. If it had eyes it would have blinked in the harsh overhead lights the banished all normal shadows from the room. Instead it continued on its sinuous way towards the shelves where personal effects were stored. Since it had been created out of His blood the shadow was literate and only had to read the initials on the side of one purse to know where to hide.
Meanwhile in Hell Irons and the Devil were having a chat.
"Yes, but how do you plan on getting rid of Him once Ms. Pezzini is out of the way?" questioned a miffed Irons. While finding the company more to his taste in Hell the luxuries were something to be desired. The only conclusion that he could come to was that the cheap suits lining his decidedly shabby closet were part of his 'punishment'.
The man sitting across from him in a chair carved from ice with imprisoned fire within was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Irons being sent to Hell was part of his punishment. The man did nothing but talk but that at least meant he wasn't scheming. Directly following any long periods of silence was an attempt to possess someone or acquire news of Sara Pezzini. If it hadn't gone against his every fiber of being he would have told, no forced, Nottingham to destroy that blasted hand. It was his only toehold in the realm of the living, and the reason dear Kenneth was so bothersome. "Please let eternity be over soon", he prayed knowing without a doubt that God was to busy laughing to hear let alone answer.
Irritably Kenneth snapped his fingers in front of the Devils face, he would not tolerate any one daydreaming while he was talking even if said person could set him on fire with a word.
"Patience, Kenny, is indeed a virtue you should cultivate if you are going to be successful in your attempt at seizing the witchblade let alone getting out of here. Don't look so innocent I know all about your little escapades on Earth. Remember, for now I will support you in your cause but I will be perfectly happy to wait until the next wielder. After all we have time on our side, wouldn't you say." the Devil smiled pleased that he had struck a nerve with his last comment. It was a known fact that Kenny thought he was getting out and soon. It was hard for him to keep his face blank when idiot called him 'Kenny'. The nickname rankled to say the least. "I have been patient my lord, but you have yet to answer my question." He replied in his oiliest tone.
"Only the wielder can destroy him or I should say a wielder. She will eventually realize that He is controlling her so she will naturally want revenge, playing right into our hands. If she succeeds I will honor our deal. Only if he has been completely destroyed, you know how much I hate rivals." Let him think on that piece of information if he fancies acquiring my job.
"What about the girl? Will she live through the ordeal?"
"Certainly not, without the support of her knight, who serves only the true wielder, she will die and the witchblade will pass into obscurity until the bloodline regains its strength. This I have already seen." He doesn't need to know that the witchblade killed the seer who foretold that, or that she died before finishing the prophecy.
Hidden deep in the gloomy shadows cast by Hell's many flames He listened and smirked fighting the urge to laugh. Those fools dare to think that some chick with a bracelet can destroy me, the one who tricked the Devil himself into banishment from Earth. Ha, let them dream. What these smug idiots don't know is that I control the witchblade itself.
Karen's apartment 10 o'clock that night
Tired and sore from wearing unnaturally high heels and corsets (the newest thing for fall), Karen wearily made her way up the numerous stairs to her apartment. Fumbling for the key buried at the bottom of her cavernous Gucci purse the shadow barely escaped her questing hand. Finally her fingers grasped the metal key and opened the door. Inside everything was quiet, not even the soothing beep of her house alarm could be heard. Cautiously she closed the door behind her and turned to see a nightmare step out of the shadow drenched corner.
"So nice to meet face to face at last Ms. Bronte. I knew your grandmother well, you could say that she was like a sister to me." With those words he dropped a framed picture that he had been holding. The glass shattered with a crunching noise that made the man smile and his eyes glint yellow. "Don't you just love the noise of glass breaking? I find it very soothing after a long day at work. Don't worry I'll let you struggle for a moment before it bores me, after all we should leave something for the police to find."
"What the hell do you want? Money, fame, a ransom? You won't get much none of my relatives are rich." While talking she carefully picked up a nearby face. Saying a silent one two three she hurled it at the glowing yellow eyes. Casually he caught the vase then threw it at her left shoulder. With a scream of pain she crumpled to the floor with shards of glass imbedded in her shoulder. Slowing he advanced to where she lay on the floor.
"Now I'm bored so time to wrap things up, plus I have an urgent meeting with the Devil in an hour and I don't want to keep him waiting."
One foot in front of her he stopped walking and closed his eyes as if deep in thought. In horror she could do nothing but watch as two vines of shadow shot out of his upraised palm and slithered up her body and into her eyes. Gasping with the effort He forced the vines to burrow deeper, into her brain where they then could devour her free will.
While Karen was posing for the camera an ink colored vein of shadow hugged the perimeter of the room and slipped under the door into the dressing room. If it had eyes it would have blinked in the harsh overhead lights the banished all normal shadows from the room. Instead it continued on its sinuous way towards the shelves where personal effects were stored. Since it had been created out of His blood the shadow was literate and only had to read the initials on the side of one purse to know where to hide.
Meanwhile in Hell Irons and the Devil were having a chat.
"Yes, but how do you plan on getting rid of Him once Ms. Pezzini is out of the way?" questioned a miffed Irons. While finding the company more to his taste in Hell the luxuries were something to be desired. The only conclusion that he could come to was that the cheap suits lining his decidedly shabby closet were part of his 'punishment'.
The man sitting across from him in a chair carved from ice with imprisoned fire within was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Irons being sent to Hell was part of his punishment. The man did nothing but talk but that at least meant he wasn't scheming. Directly following any long periods of silence was an attempt to possess someone or acquire news of Sara Pezzini. If it hadn't gone against his every fiber of being he would have told, no forced, Nottingham to destroy that blasted hand. It was his only toehold in the realm of the living, and the reason dear Kenneth was so bothersome. "Please let eternity be over soon", he prayed knowing without a doubt that God was to busy laughing to hear let alone answer.
Irritably Kenneth snapped his fingers in front of the Devils face, he would not tolerate any one daydreaming while he was talking even if said person could set him on fire with a word.
"Patience, Kenny, is indeed a virtue you should cultivate if you are going to be successful in your attempt at seizing the witchblade let alone getting out of here. Don't look so innocent I know all about your little escapades on Earth. Remember, for now I will support you in your cause but I will be perfectly happy to wait until the next wielder. After all we have time on our side, wouldn't you say." the Devil smiled pleased that he had struck a nerve with his last comment. It was a known fact that Kenny thought he was getting out and soon. It was hard for him to keep his face blank when idiot called him 'Kenny'. The nickname rankled to say the least. "I have been patient my lord, but you have yet to answer my question." He replied in his oiliest tone.
"Only the wielder can destroy him or I should say a wielder. She will eventually realize that He is controlling her so she will naturally want revenge, playing right into our hands. If she succeeds I will honor our deal. Only if he has been completely destroyed, you know how much I hate rivals." Let him think on that piece of information if he fancies acquiring my job.
"What about the girl? Will she live through the ordeal?"
"Certainly not, without the support of her knight, who serves only the true wielder, she will die and the witchblade will pass into obscurity until the bloodline regains its strength. This I have already seen." He doesn't need to know that the witchblade killed the seer who foretold that, or that she died before finishing the prophecy.
Hidden deep in the gloomy shadows cast by Hell's many flames He listened and smirked fighting the urge to laugh. Those fools dare to think that some chick with a bracelet can destroy me, the one who tricked the Devil himself into banishment from Earth. Ha, let them dream. What these smug idiots don't know is that I control the witchblade itself.
Karen's apartment 10 o'clock that night
Tired and sore from wearing unnaturally high heels and corsets (the newest thing for fall), Karen wearily made her way up the numerous stairs to her apartment. Fumbling for the key buried at the bottom of her cavernous Gucci purse the shadow barely escaped her questing hand. Finally her fingers grasped the metal key and opened the door. Inside everything was quiet, not even the soothing beep of her house alarm could be heard. Cautiously she closed the door behind her and turned to see a nightmare step out of the shadow drenched corner.
"So nice to meet face to face at last Ms. Bronte. I knew your grandmother well, you could say that she was like a sister to me." With those words he dropped a framed picture that he had been holding. The glass shattered with a crunching noise that made the man smile and his eyes glint yellow. "Don't you just love the noise of glass breaking? I find it very soothing after a long day at work. Don't worry I'll let you struggle for a moment before it bores me, after all we should leave something for the police to find."
"What the hell do you want? Money, fame, a ransom? You won't get much none of my relatives are rich." While talking she carefully picked up a nearby face. Saying a silent one two three she hurled it at the glowing yellow eyes. Casually he caught the vase then threw it at her left shoulder. With a scream of pain she crumpled to the floor with shards of glass imbedded in her shoulder. Slowing he advanced to where she lay on the floor.
"Now I'm bored so time to wrap things up, plus I have an urgent meeting with the Devil in an hour and I don't want to keep him waiting."
One foot in front of her he stopped walking and closed his eyes as if deep in thought. In horror she could do nothing but watch as two vines of shadow shot out of his upraised palm and slithered up her body and into her eyes. Gasping with the effort He forced the vines to burrow deeper, into her brain where they then could devour her free will.