Meeting the Warlock

By
More by this author
Her muscles were pulled taught as a coil of wire, gripping the broad sword with practiced strength. Her eyes flashing brightly. Her legs spread apart, the practice dummy hung loosely on a post it’s crooked face almost mocking her. Her hands tightened only slightly around the hilt of the sword.

She brought the it down, sweeping it down in a spiral arch, the black blade slicing effortlessly though the cotton filled dummy. Four times the dummy was struck, and that was the end of it. The blade slicing through everything recognizable. She straitened her back, bringing the tip down till it rested onto the floor.


“Luka what are you doing?”
She swiveled around, an annoyed looked crossed her face. Her golden cat eyes glowing brightly in the dimmed room.


‘I would believe that would be an obvious answer?”
He smiled and leaned against the paint chipped door frame.


“It is a quite obvious what you are doing, but I wonder about your reasoning?”
The white haired girl shrugged. The sword making the floor sizzle and spark starting to make it bubble. He eyed the sword hesitantly.


“Oh don’t worry; I won’t use it on you.”
He smiled tightly.


“All you do is practice and go hunting in the night. You never hang out any more with me or the gang. We miss you, I miss you.”
She looked away, her finger wrapping a stray lock of snow white hair. This was not the first time they were having this conversation. It probably wouldn’t be the final one either. She was a stubborn as she was strong,


“Look Art.”-
She brought the broad sword up and sheathed it with a snap.


“There will be time to socialize after the test.”
He threw his hands up in frustration.


“You are the top warlock in the covenant. Isn’t being the best of your class enough for you? Why do you have to now be the best warlock in Manhattan as well?”
Her eyes met his, them piercing through his flesh and into his very soul.


“No Art it is not enough.”
She ran a hand through her snow white hair, causing it to fan out in a silky wave. Trying to find an invisible knot that even Art knew was not there. She took great care in everything she did. To her if something was not perfect it was not complete. Although Art saw this as a insane way of living one’s life, he did love that eccentric perfectionism about her. He looked away his eyes focusing on the opposite wall.
“It will never be enough Art. Demons deserve to die. They deserve to feel that, terrible pain you feel right before death is about to take you. They deserve to suffer ”
She shifted her feet and met his eyes.

“Luka your part demon as well.”
She turned away, a slight hiss escaping her lips.


“Don’t, ever call me that.”
He stepped back slightly.


“Luka.”
But she wasn’t done.


“Do you hear me Art? I will not be called a demon. I’ve had enough of being compared to them. Those filthy beings that roam the earth, led by their stomachs, preying on innocent human for their souls. I hate them, there filthy disgusting creatures, I am nothing like them.”


“Your eyes?”
She hissed at him, grabbing his collar and threw him against the wall.


“Let me tell you a story Art.”
Her thumb pressing against his jugular. Ready to apply pressure if he annoyed her.


“It is 1789 in Brittan; a baby girl is born to a single mother. She didn’t know the father, how could she really. She was a prostitute; she had no way of telling who the father was. When the baby was place in her arms she was overjoyed. She finally had a daughter, finally someone that she could hold and teach. Someone that actually cared for her. But when the baby opened her eyes. Golden cat eyes shown up at the once proud mother. She screamed, the doctor came rushing in. Devil devil devil, she chanted over and over again pointing a crooked finger at the swaddled baby.
The doctor cried out loudly, grabbing the baby away from the now crying mother. He took it out of the hospital. And through the crying baby into the Thames. The baby was yanked up two days later, still alive and screaming. A fisherman took her home and raised her. She grew into her own, white hair to match her golden eyes, a skilled fencer and swords man. She stopped ageing at 21 her demon immortality kicking in. The Fisherman and his wife were proud of their Thames delivered daughter, though they didn’t understand why she didn’t age past 21. They told her to go to America, people could train her there. Help her perfect her swordsmanship and unbeknownst to them elemental powers. Only some were showing up at the time.”
Luka smiled slightly, her eyes glazed over with memories.


“She nearly burned down the house trying to start a fire. She had to much energy, to much power to be truly human. So she was sent to America, joined the Warlock Covent. And has been here ever since. My eyes come from my demon father, the bastard that he is. I am more demon than everyone in this building, more than you Art. Yes I will admit that. But I am not one, I will never again be compared to a demon, or called a demon again, do you understand?”


“Yes Luka, I understand.”
She withdrew her hand, his feet once again touching the floor.


“I actually came to ask you something.”


“And what would that be.”
He swallowed hard, the story had scared him. Truly scared him, but also made him sick to his stomach. Sometimes humans can be so……oblivious.


“I want you to be my hunting partner.”
Her head snapped up, golden eyes once again burning into him.


“Why do you want me?”


“Because you are my best friend Luka. And you’re the best warlock here. I would be honored to watch your back.”
She smiled.


“That would be nice.”





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback