|Child of Death
Author: M.R.Sanner PM
A short story.Rated: Fiction M - English - Fantasy/Supernatural - Words: 897 - Published: 11-20-09 - id: 2743256
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I dreamed of the demon. Again.
The dreams are a blur of frozen ecstasy. Nothing much left to remember when I wake but the feel of ice and the intense feeling of pleasure, but the pleasure is nothing but an echo of the real thing.
I laid in my room staring into the cool darkness , thinking of him. Of Chris, with his cold hands, frozen eyes and glacial lips pressed against my burning skin . The pleasure I felt that night was like non I had ever experienced before and will never experience again. Almost makes me want to Breed again.
My stomach rolled at the thought, filling my mouth with the taste of bile. I lurched from my bed and ran to the bathroom heaving up everything I ate for dinner the night before. I pressed my face against the cool porcelain of the toilet feeling hot and sick. No, I will never Breed again. I will not bear a foul Esser into this world.
I lifted my head from the porcelain bowl, and glared down at my body, at my stomach. It was there, I could feel its filth growing inside of me. I pressed my hands along my stomach staring at the barely-there bump. The result of fucking a demon. The result of a contract partially fulfilled.
"Only six more months," I hissed at the bump pressing my hand painfully against the swelling of my stomach." ...Only six more months you fucker." I pulled back my hand from the swell, curling it into a fist. Six more months and I would be free from the Anspurch.
It was worth it .I would have sold my soul to rid myself of the Anspurch, but Gena had helped negotiate and came up with something …bearable. I frowned and shook my head. I didn't need to think of these things. I didn't want to think of the thing growing inside of me. I didn't want to think of anything much. I stood and flushed the toilet, staring at the whirling water whisk away my half dissolved dinner.
I walked back to the room, staring at my crumpled bed. I wasn't tired. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Thirty minutes shy of six. I frowned and looked back at my bed contemplating. No, still not tired. I sighed and walked out my bedroom door.
The kitchen was empty. I made my way to the breakfast bar and sat down, staring at the yellow light above the sink illuminating the dark kitchen. I did not bother to turn on the light. I didn't need them. I could see perfectly fine with the small sliver of light. The house was quiet, all was asleep .Which was to be expected most of the residents barely made it to bed before two, including myself. Having to go extensively over a murder scene will deprive you of sleep.
I frowned leaning against my hand thinking about the scene, about the grisly murder of the twelve-year old boy. What was his name? Nathaniel. Nathaniel Brackett of Shelby. He went missing a week ago never coming home from school . Nothing of interest to us, not until Gena pushed for the Charity to look into it . Dylan , a researcher from the Charity , thought nothing fruitful would come form the search into the boys life . Oh, but it did . He had a record of depression, delusions and mental illness. The three red flags ever Charity worker looks for. Talking to his schoolmates and parents reviled what Gena's suspicions were correct, that Nathaniel Brackett was a necromancer.
He was dead; we all knew it so we started looking for death. We found it last night in the woods along route 70. The boys body was bloated and rank thanks to the few warm sunny days and the many cold. The wonderful consistently inconsistent weather of fall in North Carolina, . Ha.
A few of the local wildlife had gotten to him, but most of the scene, beside form the scavengers and the weather, was still intact. His death was just like the others, messy and violent. His bones were splintered and cracked, his insides leaking out onto the freshly fallen leaves staining them a red black. Half of his cherub face was shredded off, the other half frozen in terror. He looked to of been mauled by animals, but we knew better. There was 12 cases just like his spread across the country.
Twelve cases of animal like attacks by things that aren't so animal, by things not so natural .Each of the victims were killed by flesh-eaters. Flesh-eaters raised by another necromancer for the soul purpose to devour and kill other necromancers. The attacks grew worse as the Rogue made his way across country, growing braver with each kill until he finally made his presence known with the killing of Sarah Wright.
The Families would have easily dismissed the slayings of the unaffiliated necromancers, but no matter how much hate is between the Families none would let a murder of a member go unjustified. The death of Sarah Wright united the five families in away that has not been scene for over 300 years.
I smiled and shook my head. The murder of Sarah was the death warrant for the rogue. And we will have it.