ten nights of the beast

Ezekiel de le Poer · 07-19-2011, 01:19 AM

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There had never been a significant loss in Ezekiel’s life; he had not suffered death as other living souls had. The third child his parents had created had never known life. While Talitha had vanished many times over, she always came home. She was not dead. She was sometimes barely living, of course. Yet there were reasons for these things, that sensible part of his brain so often reflected on. Talitha had suffered in ways he would never know. A dead man had wounded her so terribly that she sought comfort in any male that would bend to her wills—all of them more unworthy than the last.

Two strangers regarded each other in the dark, both shadows of their fathers. Ezekiel relaxed slightly at the familiar red gaze. It was similar to his sister’s, if only slightly. He was less welcoming to the voice, recalling the lore of devils and demons who spoke with cherub’s tones while they twirled dark magic under cape and cowl. Still, he was not a child any longer—he was the Aquila, and it was his duty to see what this stranger was doing on their land.

Several well placed steps carried him down towards the rocky beach. He found the scent of mint heavy in the air. Perhaps this man was some sort of talking ghost. “What are you doing here?” Ezekiel asked, though there was no malice in his tone.

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