Improved 1st chapter :) Lexie story X

Hey:)

Some of you might have read this before because i posted this when there were no corrections. I have now added a small paragraph at the beginning and corrected my work so please tell me what you think and thank you to all those who helped me before! X

1. The Beginning

When you say to someone, ‘Please kill me now,’ you don’t actually expect them too. Or try anyway. You don’t expect them to slam you into a cold, hard wall the force shooting pain up your back. You don’t expect their arm to be pressed tight against your throat, the pressure making air sparse and your breath short. You don’t expect them to smile…no, laugh cruelly in your face, your pain pleasure to them. In life I have learnt to expect a lot of things. Bad things.

I just never expected to die today.

“Master,” A short man with spiky, dark blue hair bowed low before extending out his left arm to an empty stage.

A long hand reached out and lightly touched the man’s wrist. As soon as contact was made a clear light shone brightly from the man’s arm, the small star mark which was written into his skin glowing. His master removed his hand and the light died, swallowed up into the darkness.

“Marty.” A low, husky voice echoed in the room. They were in a church, but just from seeing the faded paintings and dusty Bibles it was obvious the old tenants were long gone.

Brightness penetrated the building; the only light was 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. Her teeth were gritted, as if this would prevent her from sounding any more noises that made her come across weak. 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.

“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 nowhere?”

The woman swore in response.

“Okay, 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 his lips hard against hers, the woman choked as it became hard to breathe. 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, fading 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 itself, 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.