So, I did a quick write of about 1,000 words and I’m still not sure where this is going, but there were some people who said that they wanted me to write a little horror included and I hope this either satisfies them for now or leaves them begging for more! I definitely liked stepping out of my comfort zone with even this little bit 🙂
The rain fell in sheets, the sound of it hitting the pavement and the few ice droplets that were present bounced off. The wind whipped the woman’s hair in every direction, her long, black locks making it nearly impossible to see as thunder sounded and lightening lit up the area. She was waiting for someone that was already late.
Glancing at her watch, she sighed. There was nothing that she could really do to get him here faster, except for the one thing she didn’t want to do. Reaching up, she tied her hair up and waiting as the rain soaked through her tight black jeans, loose black shirt and zipped black jacket. The cloak that was billowing around her was just for appearances as she needed to show who she represented, not that the dark gray seal was visible in the light that was present.
Glancing around, she took in the bridge that she was standing nearby. Wanting to be seen and to have her visitor realize she was alone, she resisted stepping under its safety from the storm. There was a small stream that was running below the bridge that she was standing on the edge of the water. Looking up the small hill towards the edges of the road to her left, she could barely see the outline of her black Bentley sitting next to the guard rail.
With everything that was going on, she knew that the deal needed to be made and it needed to be made quickly. That was why they had sent her. That is why she was now standing in the rain, waiting on him to arrive. Time ticked by slowly as the wind picked up even more, the trees in the distance shifting their weight as they were moved. Once she heard the footsteps behind her, she sighed.
“You’re late,” she spoke quietly, knowing that he would hear her anyway, having exceptional hearing. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago. For the one calling all the shots, you’re not doing a great job.”
She turned around and only saw his shadow, but she knew that would be all that she saw. It had happened before the last time he had threatened all the peace between all the races and all the people, and everyone had bought it. Everyone had essentially, everyone had bowed down and given him what he wanted in return. Now he was back and the woman was stubborn – part of the reason her people had sent her. She wouldn’t bow down for anything.
“Doesn’t matter, does it?” His voice was soft and velvety, something that she could easily see herself begging to hear more of if it was a different situation. She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes, trying to catch a glimpse at his face, but it was useless. The dark hid him well, even if she had extraordinary sight. “Did you bring the stuff?”
She waited before replying because a part of her was scared. She was young and had her entire life ahead of her, but it could all disappear if she told him no. She didn’t have the drug.
“Damnit!” he cursed as he turned ad started walking away from her. When he turned back, it was clear that he was furious. Rushing up to her, he grabbed her shoulders quickly, pushing her against one of the pillars that held up the bridge. As he did so, his own cloak fell, exposing his decomposing face, the flesh slowly peeling off of it, bone and blood present and oozing from different wounds. “I don’t think you understand the severity of it. I need the drug. I need it to survive and if I don’t have it…”
He paused, leaving the woman anticipating the next part of the sentence. It was a good thing that she wasn’t squeamish as she would have shied away, but she didn’t. In fact, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. There was a piece right above his eye that was hanging down, brown and clotting blood where it use to be. A part of her wanted to reach up and tear the rest of it off for him, but she doubted that he would appreciate that very much.
“What will happen?” she questioned as she tried to push him back. It was useless though as he pulled her away and then slammed her back against the stone again. She winced as the pain shot up her back, but she tried not to show it on her face.
“What will happen is that this… this disease will be spread and that’s not what you want, is it? Think about it. All the races will be faced with this disease, this affliction and you would have an outbreak on your hands. Is that really what the Elders want?”
He took a step back from her and paced, but she was frightened, keeping against the stone, just in case he decided to attack. She was sure he didn’t know, but she had a dagger strapped beneath her cloak, one with an intricate design on it. It was made especially for her as the hilt was made of gold and the blade was made of the purest sapphire, formed into an unbreakable blade that made the smoothest of cuts.
“You don’t understand what you’re doing, keeping the drug locked up the way that you do…”
“It’s not my call,” she started to reply, but again, he spun around and slithered up to her quickly. She could feel his rancid breath against her cheek and the ooze of the blood as his cheek touched hers as he whispered in her ear.
“That’s where you’re wrong, dear.” Okay, maybe she was starting to feel a little nauseated from everything, holding back the vile that was rising in her throat. “The people control the Elders, just remember that.”
Stepping back, he raised his hands as his eyes bore into hers. “I will give you one week and not a second longer to get me what I need or else. My dearest Ophelia Moriarty.”
Her eyes grew wide as her name slithered off of his tongue. For a moment, there was something in the air, something that wanted her to retreat and find the Elders, telling them everything that had transpired, but the other part left her intrigued as to how he had known it was her.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out, Princess?” Princess was all but spat out as he rolled his eyes, stepping towards her again. “Turn their heads,” he whispered before he walked past her and back under the bridge.
“And if I can’t convince them?” she called out, thinking that he was already gone. His reply came, quietly and barely audible, but still it was there.
“Then the countless deaths from the affliction will be your problem, not mine.”
(C) Bree Vanderland 2015