Hexed - A Black Magic Novel

Chapter 8 - Demons

The first thing I noticed was the extremely cold temperature, and I'm wearing a pair of jeans and a thin t-shirt, so I felt basically naked in below 0° weather, but the Voice didn't seem to care. Ugh, just keep going farther away from that.. user. It murmured. I shook my head and was about to turn around when I was pushed to the ground. Cold pierced into my back. I looked to see a familiar face, a face that wasn't friendly. Ian. I thought. "Boss! We finally found the hiding b-!" He was cut off by the redhead. "Well, well. Mage. It's a pleasure to see you again. Although, to be honest, it seems that it's not a pleasure for you to see me, is it? Oh well." She said as she pushed me deeper into the freezing snow beneath me. My teeth chattered against each other. She smiled deviously. "What, don't like the cold?" She sneered as she pushed deeper. My pulse was quickening as my breath was becoming more forced. "Since your "Chief" couldn't do his own job. I decided to do it myself, and he, well, let's just say he'll be skating on thin ice." She said as she looked towards a frozen lake. Chief Holden was unconscious in the center. Ian smirked and pulled out an air horn. The resonating honk filled the air and jolted him awake. He saw the lake and looked directly at us, at her. Ian pulled out a small throwing knife and held it near the ice.
"You're going to come with us, or he will swim with the fishes, literally." Ian said as he howled with laughter. The Voice regained control and conducted heat through the dagger. Ian yelped as it singed his hand. He rammed it into the ice with a crack, which turned into a spiderweb pattern until it reached the center. Then, as if immediately, Holden fell into the freezing drink below. I witnessed his struggle to stay surfaced, his feeble attempts to ignore the cold and his quickly exhausting arm muscles.

Then, falling.
Heartbeat, lung capacity, chances of survival, him sinking deeper into the abyss that is the frozen lake.

-=-{:[OXO]:}-=-

She sat in the throne of the old king of the humans. The old dead king. She raised a hand to the queen, and she fell limp as her pulse slowed, her heartbeat lacking force.

Slower and slower it beat...

The last breath of the queen was quiet, hushed, drowned out by the deafening silence that followed. The Rogue Mage stood once, then fell to her knees in exhaustion.

"So... Tired..." She sighed and looked at the woman collapsed next to her. She put a hand to the woman's forehead. A violet aura began to surround her hand as the mana was seeped from the queen. "No use for it to die along with her..." She sighed with relief as the energy that was depleted from her was restored once more. Shadows whispered in the darkest corners of the castle, and she welcomed the voices, the sharpened teeth, the tongues drenched in venom and the minds filled with schemes to kill, to dominate, to destroy, to show the real meaning of the word "death".

To rid this world of its "saints".