Alastor looks at him. Their eyes meet. He’s afraid of what he’s going to find there. There is sadness in his eyes, and something else.
Something that Gabriel cannot identify. It frightens him so much that he can only stare back at him.
He isn’t wearing any glasses. His eyes, like his gaze, are sharp, and piercing. His hair falls loose, framing his angular, handsome features. His skin is pale. There's something familiar about him, but Gabriel cannot put his finger on what it is.
He realizes, in the midst of his panic, that he hasn' noticed any scars on Alastor’s neck or wrists. If anything, the tattoos on his arms seem even more prominent than before. They're dark, black lines curving up and down the pale skin. It's as if they've swallowed him whole.
His mind races. What does this mean? Why was he chosen to be here? Did Alastor kill somebody? Was he supposed to kill somebody?
He feels sick. He wonders if Alastor killed someone. If he killed somebody because he’s angry.
“Why?” he finally asks. “Why are you here? Why did you choose me?”
Alastor smiles, just a touch. “Because it was meant to be.”
“How do you know?”
“I know,” he says softly.
“How do you know?” he repeats, harsher.
“Tell me. Tell me your story.”
Alastor sighs, runs one hand over his face, then rests it on his chin. “I'm not good at telling my story,” he admits. “At best I could say that I was cursed, and then I’m afraid I wouldn't be much more specific than that.”
“Well, I’ve already known all this,” Gabriel snaps. “And you haven't been answering my questions properly, so I think I should be allowed to give the same answer.”
A faint smile curls up on the corner of Alastor’s lips. “Fine,” he says. “It was like this…”
YOU ARE READING
The Crow
Terror"So here's the thing," says the crow, "if you've never heard of me, hear me now. I'm your least expected fortune teller. I'm the one that brings death and despair. Yield to me, so I shall spare you from your doomed fate." "Foolish," says the human. ...
