How I Disappear

Chapter 6: Angelcraft

          "Is it so hard for you to stand still?" asked Abaddon, smiling.

          Hunter smiled back. She was trying to keep still, but  he was standing extremely close, his chin barely a few inches from her forehead.

          "You're very peculiar." said Abaddon. With these words, he ran his hand down her cheek, stopping over her pale neck. His hand was cold and smooth like marble. She dared not meet his eyes.

          He bent down slightly, and moved closer, to the point that Hunter could feel his warn breath on her cheek. She turned to face him, and her eyes widened.

          His eyes were pure white, whiter than even his skin, and in his open mouth, glittered two pale fangs. He ran a blood red, forked tongue over them, and whispered,

          "This is what I really am.'

          Hunter closed her eyes...

          ...and when she opened them, she was lying in her bed, the covers half on the floor. She sat up and pulled her hair out of her face, her tank top clung to her sweaty skin. She pulled the covers off herself and stood, glancing around the darkened room. Nothing was out of place. No pale, fanged creature with a snake's tongue watched her as she slept.

          Was Ernie right? Had this been her one chance and had she blown it? Hunter sat down at her desk, eyeing the paper titled The Pale Recluse. She hadn't written a word. This worried her, she never had such difficulty in writing poetry. She laid her head on her desk and thought, where could my Pale Recluse be at this moment?

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          Pow!

          The priest screamed in pain and was pushed back far as Abaddon swung the metal bat at his face. He hung upside down from the ceiling, his legs tied to a dangling chain and his arms secured behind him with rope.

          The small puddle of blood on the floor was beginning to widen.

          "Abaddon!" yelled Saleos from a nearby table, "Leave some blood for the bowl."

          Abaddon scowled and swung the bat at the priest's face again. The priest screamed in pain again. Saleos sighed and walked over to the hanging clergyman, laying a large clay bowl under him.

          The bat once again made contact with the priest's face, sending a splatter of blood onto a nearby wall and a trickle of blood into the bowl, the sound of cracking bone echoed through the room.

          Abaddon found little satisfaction in hitting this priest. In fact, even bleeding this old man dry didn't sound as good as it once did. Abaddon had inquired with his conscience about this problem, and there was one thing he kept thinking about, Hunter. She had not wronged him in any way. Yet there it was, always in the back of his mind, that same green-eyed, dark-blonde haired figure, with the Batman beanie. Abaddon shook his head and drew his dagger. The blade whistled through the air and blood poured in a steady stream into the clay bowl.

          "So what's the catch Abaddon?" said Amnon, as the blood bowl filled up.

          "Do you remember the prophecy of the Seven Seals?" replied Abaddon, cleaning off his dagger with a rag.