x1. The Beginning
“Master,” A tall man with spiky dark blue hair and feverishly pale skin bowed low before extending out his left arm to what looked like an empty stage.
A long lightly tanned hand reached out and lightly touched the blue haired man’s wrist. As soon as contact was made a clear yet gentle light shone brightly from Marty’s arm, the small star mark which was written into his skin glowing. Marty shut his eyes, his lips pressed tightly together. The light did not burn or hurt him; the general greeting was nothing but a pulse, beating in his skin. The man removed his hand and the light died, swallowed up into the air.
“Marty.” A low, husky voice echoed in the room. They were in a church, but just from seeing the scratched paintings and dusty Bibles it was obvious the old tenants were long gone.
Darkness penetrated the building; the only light was coming from the moon which filtered through the coloured glass windows. The light red rays fell onto the stone cold floor in patterns and swirls but no one cared for the beauty or the wonder of their kingdom. It was merely far away from life yet near enough to catch the scent.
“Any news?” The man in the golden chair looked down at Marty. Shadows danced across the floor but none could quite reach the stage. Marty couldn’t see his master’s face but he knew what it looked like. The beauty, the glint, the curled smile. And with it a seductive voice which made all who heard it want to hear it again. But all he could see now, in the little light of which the moon spared, was a man. A man with silver eyes.
“No, sir, but we did find something that might interest you.” Marty smiled; the small emotion lighting up his darkly striking face. He turned round and motioned to the two men who stood behind him in the aisle.
Nodding, they walked down the church, their footsteps silent despite their size. Pushing open the big oak doors - the creaking an unwelcome noise in the midst of the silence – they disappeared. Seconds later they emerged again but this time there was a third person.
Crushed in the centre was a young woman, her flame red hair a mess, her eyes contorted with pain and yet her face still held a mixture of pride and anger. And she was so, so beautiful.
The men dragged her across the bumpy stone floor, a small smile playing on their lips whenever they pulled her over a sharp stone and heard her gasp. She was chained; metal cuffs bounded her wrists and strapped together her ankles. All she wore was a dress which had taken as many beatings as her. Reaching Marty they stopped and threw her mercilessly to the ground.
Grabbing her chin and squashing her cheeks so hard blood appeared Marty pulled her face up so his master could see.
“We found her a couple of miles from here, walking on her own. She can’t use her power, we made sure of that. All energy has been drained out of her, her body has little left. She won’t state her name or coven but she didn’t have to.” Marty spun the woman round and harshly tugged down the top of her dress. There on her right shoulder blade was a tattoo of a flame, drawn in dark black ink, the same as Marty’s star.
“Fire,” the man on the chair breathed. He stood up and walked down the stairs until he met with the others. “Good work Marty.”
The man knelt by the woman. He tilted her face up gently. Her big blue eyes did not meet his, her jaw set in a stiff line. The man chuckled, “My, my, fiery just like your coven. And this mane…”His fingers stroked her hair.
Disgusted, the young woman jerked her head back and spat in his face, “Don’t you dare touch me!”
Marty went to hit her but the man put out his hand. Wiping his face he said, “Now that wasn’t very nice. Don’t you know who I am?”
“A monster!” The woman whispered, her voice dripping with hatred. “You are no witch! You shame your coven!”
The man laughed.
The woman glared at him, her split lip bleeding. “Pretty hell hole you got here.” She muttered sarcastically, looking around her. “So, the devil chooses a holy place for his killings. Nice.”
To her surprise, the man smiled, “Ahhhh, but you don’t know, do you?” He moved closer, not waiting for an answer. “Now, I’m going to ask you a simple question and you can either choose the easy or the hard way.” The man’s silver eyes shone, “Tell me, what is a pretty witch like you doing out on your own in the middle of no where?”
The woman swore.
“Ok, you want the hard way.” Gripping her face between his hands, he pulled her so close her nose bumped his. Her eyes grew wide, fear circling in their depths. Her mouth opened but no sound escaped. That was when it started. Ice started to creep up her neck from the man’s fingers. His fingertips brushed against her jaw leaving the skin he touched turn to a light bluish colour. Frost covered her eyelashes. Cold air burned her nose.
“Why are you here?” The man’s voice was like poison, his abnormally handsome face in a twist of rage.
The woman started coughing yet she did not try to speak her answer. Her hands were numb at her sides, the small star tattoo – just like Marty’s – on her left wrist was shining blindly.
“Tell me!” The man screamed.
The blood falling from the woman’s lip froze - a small deep red icicle. Using up her last strength she whispered, “Bite me.”
Snow fell from the ceiling, a biting wind thrashing against everything it met. Marty crouched low, his arms protecting his body just as the two other men did.
The man snarled, his lips brushing the woman’s frozen ones. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?” His voice leaked with acid. “I am the one they all fear. I am the one they can’t kill. No one can touch me, no one can cause me pain. I do the killing and there isn’t any witch out there that can stop me.” The woman’s eyes froze into wide circles of understanding.
The man noticed and laughed against her lips. His voice still managed to be seductive as he gave a hoarse whisper, “I am the one who is going to kill you.”
Pressing him to her, the woman choked. Ice thawed up against her throat, freezing her airway. She knew what he was doing.
The man’s warm lips only made her own colder, the pressure freezing up her organs, killing her body. Breaking off, he smiled at her cold, dying body and knew the pain which she must be feeling and took happiness from that.
Kissing her one last time, he moved his lips to her ear, “Remember me.”
He dropped the beautiful dying woman onto the cold ground, her body shrinking into its self, trying to fight away the demons inside her.
She would remember him. Wherever she was going his face would always haunt her, teasing her, hurting her. She would never forget that man.
The man with the silver eyes.
This has lots of potential. I have no idea where this can go, yet at the same time I do ... if you get what I mean. Absolutely brilliant. You should be proud. I may be going over the top with the praise, but this is one of the best first chapters I've read. And 
The starting sentence just wasn't edgy enough for something like this. It is wonderful, this chapter, but I don't get a sense of that until you were describing the church. That's far too late. The first sentence has to be the eye-catcher, because people judge the story from even the first word. It's a cruel business, but it's true. Try this article by RoseyUnicorn. It's brilliant and should explain it better than I can.