No Rest for the Wicked

Chapter Thirteen

Jack was running off of pure adrenaline at this point. His feet pounded against the frozen ground, narrowly avoiding the trees and branches around him as he bolted through the woods.

Riggs and Barns were dead. He hadn't seen them die, but the screams of terror and agony were enough for him to know they were no longer running with him. Jack felt pure dread as he heard their cries, but there was nothing he could have done.

They were dead the moment the devil saw them.

Jack continued to race through the woods, not going in any specific direction. His only focus right now was surviving and getting the lunatic off of his trail. He could feel the killer hot on his trail, yet he heard no footsteps behind him as he ran... the soundless steps just made it all the more terrifying.

Looking for the man was a grave mistake. He had managed to take down two officers single handedly, Jack knowing that he was next. With nothing to defend himself and his team dead, there was no way of survival unless he ran.

So he did just that. He ran despite the burning in his lungs, barely able to breath as his body went into overdrive. His legs were wobbly and every inch of him ached, feeling on the brink of collapse but refusing to allow himself to give up.

He could see an opening up ahead in the trees, a sliver of hope filling him as he drew closer and closer to the open area. He was so close to escaping these wretched and cursed woods, the once peaceful environment now tainted with the blood of more victims.

He nearly fell over when a figure appeared before the opening, blocking the only exit and only escape. Jack involuntarily froze in place, almost as if an unseen force was keeping him from moving.

Jack stared at the figure, unable to look away from the man standing so close yet so far away from his weak and now trembling body.

But he didn't seem like a man. His features were almost...otherworldly, looking almost human but not quite. The man was absolutely beautiful; Long, luscious blonde locks lie loosely at his shoulders, his eyes a haunting grayish blue that would make any man shiver. A white cloth draped his body, the cloth now stained with the blood of Jack's deceased partners.

The only things imperfect about the figure was his forehead, two gaping bloody holes with rigid and irritated skin surrounding the two craters in his head. Red crimson surrounded the open wounds, coating his forehead and face as streams of blood trickled down his face and cheeks, leaking from the punctures.

Along with the bloody spots where horns should have been, burns coated his arms and body, littering his skin with red and fleshy scars. Even with his body looking as if it had been burned from head to toe, he still looked... angelic.

The air felt thick, almost like it was vibrating as the two stood at a stalemate. Jack remained unmoving, watching as the figure's chest rose and fell in a rhythmic motion.

Jack felt his blood run cold when it finally spoke, saying only one word to the terrified man before him.

"Jack."

Jack's eyes widened as he watched the figure pull something from behind him. A bloodied sword now rested at his side, his delicate fingers grasping onto the handle of the elongated blade.

"Jack..."

The figure began to stalk towards him slowly, his sword drawn as it readyed to finally destroy its last remaining enemy.

"JACK!!"

Jack jolted, his body finally being pulled out of its  paralysis.

Jack felt his eyes fly open, his muscles tense as he felt a hand shaking him.