Death Is My Friend with Benefits (Book Four - WA Winner 2013)

Chapter 7: Dead to Me

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 It was shadowy in the chapel, dimly lit by an old chandelier, and quiet, besides the methodic hums of the deep red gowns standing shoulder to shoulder, swaying back and forth as they chanted in Latin.

     

      "Sophus?"

     

      The man dressed in slacks and a dark button down kicked back at the front pew of the second floor balcony had been overlooking the hooded men--his Peace Keepers, with his hand on his chin. Sophus only slightly acknowledged the tiny man speaking his name with a nod of his head. He had been sitting alone for quite some time.  He usually didn't mind being alone--he enjoyed his own company at times, except when his thoughts were in multiple places at once. This time, his thoughts were muddled and his palms were cool and damp; he was in one of his bizarre moods again. He hadn't fed in a while. Though, he wasn't in the mood for human blood. No, he was thirsty for something else. When he was alone and having one of his moods, that usually meant if he didn't quench his thirst rapidly he would start to get very...provoked.

      Usually, his "moods" ended with someone's throat being slit.

     

      "Do you need anything to drink, sire? Your treatment?"

      Sophus tensed, fingering the pendant at his neck that allowed him to sit in the church without suffocating to death. He remembered when his mother had given it to him as a gift. It was right before he was taken from her. When he took him from her.

     

      Sophus shook himself from his brooding thoughts. Ah, yes, his treatment. That was exactly what he needed right now. "Yes. Get me the syringe, please." He squeezed the bridge of his nose as his knee twitched. He felt weak. On edge. The man had work in the morning, he wasn't presentable like this. "Get it to me now. I have to be in good company tomorrow."

                                                                       

      "You are seeing the girl? Faith--"

      Faith Williams. Not a man in the world could forget such a beautiful face. Shame, that her soul was the key to turning the world entirely evil, and he was planning on controlling that innocent, wonderful little soul before others did.

      Ok, so maybe Sophus was a little pissed he found out about her through the grapevine, as well as the fact that the Angel of Death had gotten to her first. He was also pissed that so many others were finding out about her uniqueness. He didn't like to be sloppy, but when it came time to control Faith he knew things were going to get seriously messy.

      Sophus always got what he wanted. In no means was he mean. If he could, he would make Faith Williams his own without killing anyone in his way. But that was simply ludicrous. In life, there was always someone in his way--in everyone's way, that you had to outsmart to get past. But this was the modern world: if you get in someone's way they shoot you upside the head and step on your dead body as they walk past you.

       "It all depends on how quickly you get my syringe, mortal," Sophus snarled, whipping his head around, glaring at another one of his brain washed humans, Ron Johnson. Ron tripped a little and fell back on a pew.