Twilight Wings: A Supernatural Romance/Action

Chapter 5: The Clash

AZ'S POV

Well, everything was going pretty well. After our little discussion of what to do next at lunch, I had invited Emma to come with me to the cemetery that night and meet some of the ghosts that lived there. Emma had looked thrilled at the prospect of us two being alone, but not so much at the whole ghost thing. I had managed to convince her that the ghosts were friendly though, so now us two were walking through the cemetery saying hello to some of its inhabitants.

Right now, we had sat down on top of a large rectangular grave that belonged to a ghost named Raven Wing. Raven Wing was a Cherokee Native American who had lived here for several years and had died in the year 1869, when a Confederate deserter from the Civil War had killed him. Right now, he was talking to us.

Raven Wing looked like a regular 20-year old guy. He was wearing a Native American leather jerkin, long leather pants, and a pair of moccasins. On his back, he had a set of animal skins, and his side was bleeding. Otherwise, he looked just like a normal human.

"Well, quite frankly, it was pretty surprising. I was pretty much just minding my own buisness, walking along a path of woods that was here when this man jumps from the trees. He asked me where the nearest town was, but I wasn't going to tell him, so he lunged at me with a knife," Raven Wing said in respons to Emma's question how he had died.

"What happened then?" she asked.

"Well, I stepped in to meet him. I got one good punch in across his face and I was going to follow it up with a kick, but he gored me with his blade right in the side. I fell over, but before I went, I managed to twist the knife out of his hand and stab him right in the chest. And that's about the end of it," Raven Wing said, giving a deep sigh at the sad memory.

"Hey Az! Some guy's here to talk to you!" cried a voice from nearby.

I looked to where the voice had come from. It was John Wolf. John Wolf had actually died fairly recently, at the age of 14 in the year 1995. He was hit by a car, but he didn't even seem to care that much now that he was dead. He was always really cheerful and happy.

"Where is he?" I asked, standing up.

"He's coming. Be patient," John said.

And from behind John, guess who would step out but Slate Face. I cursed and flung out my hand, tapping my scythe bracelet. Immediately, a cloak of shadows enveloped me. This was my death spirit uniform, and whenever I was on official "business", I wore it. I then drew out my sword form thin air, grasping it in a one-handed grip. My sword's blade was dark black in color and it streamed with shadow.

"John, get out of the way! Emma and Raven Wing, step back too!" I yelled. Ghosts can be killed a second time, and Emma was at risk here too, so I needed them to get as far away as possible.

Slate Face took out a Desert Eagle handgun and twirled it one like a Texas revolver. I ran at him, but he let off a shot. I swung my cloak out in front of me, and the bullet sank harmlessly into the shadow fabric. My cloak can basically withstand all forms of damage. Slate Face let out another shot, and this time I flung up my sword and blocked the bullet. i reached him, and I swung out with my sword at his head.