The Vow

The Vow 3

Chapter 3

Walking up behind Cain I tapped his shoulder, my blade pressed gently to the flesh of his throat my other arm lying across his chest holding his arms in place. Slowly turning his head half an inch his baleful look bore into my eyes.

"So you're going to kill me? Do you really think you can though is the true question."

It's not a matter of if I can kill it's a question of whether I will."

"Very well WILL you kill me?" "Not if I don't have to"

"So here's the proposition, if you swear the whole oath not just I promise, if you swear the whole oath to not cause me any harm mentally physically or emotionally in anyway, shape, or form, then I'll release you; deal?"

"You already know the answer to such a question if you've seen me through your dreams you know I will never agree to this, just as you knew there would be violence under this ancient tree. Now I beg thee release me if you do not want your life to be one of the many swallowed by my blade."

Smiling I could feel how I was changing, just being in contact with this fey was defiling me. Like a sense of darkness had pierced me and took root in the very corridors of my soul. In one quick motion I slashed, prepared for but not really believing when I felt hot blood course over my hands. The pale porcelain of my skin seemingly stained a bright red as a tiger lily.

Releasing Cain's body I stumbled back my mind reeling my hands moving on auto-pilot to cover my face shaking, trembling to hard to actually reach. Tears slowly coursed down my cheeks falling onto the spring grass. Grass eerily bright and fake everything around me looked artificial the colors to bright the scents to sweet but above all the scent of Cain's blood cloying my nose, dark, twisted , sinister, REAL. Slowly, so slowly the colors faded draining like light fading from the world at night fall.

Everything was grey nothing but shades of grey, the only color left was red, Cain's red blood seeping into the thirsty earth. Almost as if the earth's greedy soil was reaching up to pull him under. It didn't have to, I had pulled him under I'd stolen his timeless life a lamb slaughtered for no other reason than warmth; he'd stolen my warmth with his very presence.

It was then that I realized he was not dead, as my vision faded ever darker I saw him move sit up and stand, covering my eyes, with his pale hand the feeling of soft yet solid porcelain he whispered one word and closed my all too willing lids.

"Sleep"