Burning of the Beast

Chapter 2

           

River kept his steady pace behind her, never getting too close, but never losing sight of her along the busy sidewalks of Salem. As much resentment as he had for her, she still looked beautiful. Red curls bounced behind her, the wind blowing them lightly. Her grey sweater snugly formed to her slim waist, and her dark denim jeans clung to her thick thighs.

Before, he told himself he could do it. He could kill the witch. But now that he had arrived, he wondered if he really had it in him.

No. The thought alone made him stop in the middle of the sidewalk.

Shaking his head, he took a deep breath, and restarted his stalking of the witch. Maybe she had a spell on herself. Would certainly make sense, since his brother had fallen for her as well.

He said he didn't. River's eyes darkened.

Dom did. River knew it. The way his brother had looked at her—Christ, his fingers were digging into his palms just thinking about it. And the way she had spoken to his brother. Hell, Marsey had never taken the time to even have a conversation with Dom. And maybe Dom had realized that.

But Dom and the witch, they had grown fond of each other. He knew he should've never let her teach him a damn thing. That was how it all started. Him being an illiterate dumbass. And her feeling sorry for him.

He shook his head again.

He was surprised his brother hadn't tracked her down himself and made her his woman. His lip curled in disgust.

The two of them would have made such a lovely pair. He snorted at the idea.

Before she crossed the street, a book fell out of her bag as she readjusted the strap on her shoulder. He retrieved it and kept following. She took a left, passed a small restaurant, and headed for a playground at the end of the lane.

No human should have noticed him. He wore a common face for that reason alone. But one woman did. She wore a black beanie pulled down to her ears, her navy-blue dreads hanging past her elbows. The woman stared at him. Or really, through him. She saw past the mask he wore, and her eyes scowled in recognition.

His eyes slipped from hers to look at the witch, and the woman's eyes followed. As he strode past, the woman's hand shot out, gripping his bicep.

"Walk softly, my friend. This is not the time or the place."

"I'll be the judge of that," he jerked his arm out of her grip and walked toward where his target sat in the shade.

* * *

It wasn't until Ray sat down that she noticed her satchel hung open, and a certain book was missing. Her heart skipped in her chest. Shit, her grandmother would kill her for losing that. As she was about to jump up and retrace her steps, she felt a heavy thud next to her on the bench.

"You dropped this," a deep treble of a voice said.

She turned and smiled with relief as she saw her grandmother's book being held out to her, but she froze in place as she met the cold stare of the man who held it. They bore into her soul like a pair she'd once seen in a long dream.

His eyes reminded her of a dark storm. Dark grey and green swirled together and formed a perfect silver look about them. A strand of his black hair stood in defiance against the wind.

"I hate you," she murmured more to herself than to him.

A quick sadness washed over his eyes, and then it was gone. Anger glinting in its place.