Chapter 7: The Messenger

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The room smelt like dust, books and cigars. The scents mingled in the air.

The air was so thick that the messenger was sure that he could’ve gotten a knife and cut through it. Darkness filled the entire room, except for the rare rays of pure sunlight that filtered through the holes in the windows. It was a place for secrets and monsters, where the lines that govern everywhere else were blurred at best.

“He’s back, sir.” The messenger stated emotionlessly into the darkness. He could barely contain his disgust but he’d been trained well. There was no way that he was showing any weakness to this monster.

He wasn’t called the Tuer de la Ombre, -the Slayer of the Shadows for his kindness that was for sure. The messenger bristled at the thought that one person could possibly think he had the right to deign whether someone should live or die.

There was silence as a shape in the shadows shifted, obviously too caught up in his own greed to actually notice his messenger’s hate-filled gaze.

“Are you sure of this?” A sharp reply cut through the silence.

“I’d stake my life on it.”

“You’ve done well, my little demon.”

“My thanks, Slayer.” He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He bowed mockingly, his eyes never leaving the shadows, watching for signs of movement.

The Slayer took no notice.

“A reward would be in order, I suppose. Leave me to think on an appropriate reward for such a service.” The Slayer sounded more confident, relaxed.

“I want nothing but freedom for me and for those who are under my protection as was promised.” The messenger glared at the Slayer in challenge.

The Slayer was notorious for his oath-breaking. He was a human after all. They couldn’t help it.

The messenger had been loyal to his word for over a decade, but the Slayer had yet to keep his end of the bargain.

The messenger hated the fact that he’d had no choice in the matter, that his own kin had bonded him to the Slayer. But he would gladly do it again, to save them.

“I said leave me, demon. I’ve lost my patience for your sick little games.” The Slayer boomed, the desk drawers rattled from the impact of his fist on the table.

The messenger couldn’t help but flinch.

“You call my games sick, but it is within my nature to be bad. You do not have as much to say for yourself, Tuer de la Ombre.” He hissed back bitterly.

“I’m warning you demon. Leave now or there’ll be consequences. Not on your person of course, but who knows what could happen to those you hold dear. Oh, and keep your phone on I might need you for something or other, that’s a good demon.”

Fear grabbed at the messenger’s heart. There was no need for any of them to get involved. This was his burden to bear.

He shot the shadows a dark look, before turning on his heel and making for the door.

“And so the games begin.” Dark amusement tickled his tone and the messenger couldn’t help the goose bumps that erupted across his skin as he closed the door to the study.

He didn’t know what the Slayer had in mind, but he sure as hell hoped it wouldn’t involve him or those he held dear.

A/N: Hey guys welp this is some mystery while I write the next bit to get you thinking. If you could meet any of the characters who would you meet? Shout out to my awesome supporter @midnight_fire_15 She's an absolute doll, read her story "Rediscovering Myself" it's amazing!

xxLadyKnight

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