part two
His wings stretched behind him, Anteros positioned himself to shoot his next victims. A green-eyed girl whose cheeks gave off a rosy glow, her unruly locks of red hair bouncing cheerfully in the wind, a cup of hot chocolate tightly clasped in her left hand.
His hawkish eyes never strayed off her as he waited for the perfect moment. His grip tightened on his bow as he reached back for an arrow. The sound of the arrow sliding into place familiar. He pulled back on the bowstring mindlessly.
"Vlastós," he whispered, letting go. He watched the arrow split in half before it followed his command and chased the girl, swiftly dodging anything in its path until it finally hit its target.
The girl's eyes slightly widened for a second at the light prick, her drink fell out of her hand. She felt around her back until her hands caught on something.
When she pulled it out to find a dissolving arrow her already wide eyes became wider. Her breathing became heavy, eyes misty and confused. Don't panic, she told herself, failing terribly.
And then her face went slack, body freezing up. Anteros watched as time re-winded itself around her, the spilled drink went back into her hand, untouched.
She stayed in her position, unable to move, unable to think. She slowly unfroze as everything went back to how it was, unable to remember a thing about the arrow anymore.
The other arrow hit a boy she'd known her whole life but never spoken to. She didn't see him coming her way.
A gasp escaped her lips when they bumped into each other, she somehow managed not to drop the hot chocolate.
The girl sighed in frustration, ready to scold the person who bumped into her but her words caught in her throat as she scanned his face. Both of their eyes widened.
Anteros turned and smiled, pleased with himself. It was only a matter of time before the world had another happy couple. He had gotten his job for the day, finished. And for that, Anteros was proud. His next words were carried along in the wind in a faint whisper.
"Mission accomplished."
Stepping back, he ran as fast as he could to the ledge of the building. He jumped, free-falling for a moment before his wings caught the wind and he flew. Amor would be happy to know that the job was done.
*****
The hot white flames crackled, a kaleidoscope of white, blue, and orange; bright yet dark, literally and figuratively speaking.
It could've looked beautiful if it wasn't so harsh and destructive, the flames carrying regret and the stagnant smell of fear.
Screams of agony echoed in every direction. It didn't faze Cerbeius, after all, he was the heir to the devil's throne and the flames didn't do much to him besides tickle his skin.
As the son of Lucifer he would have to go to hell every now and then to help with the rogue demons and escaped spirits.
For today though, Cerbeius was practically done. He'd patrolled, supervised the pitch black souls bound to hell, and all he needed now was to capture one of the rogue demons that managed to slip out into the mortal realm.
Exhaling, he shut his eyes, focusing on temporarily opening the portal. He imagined a small crack where stars from the other world would shine through, the air much more pleasant, the night more peaceful, and the people quieter. The image became stronger in his head until he felt like he was actually there.
When his eyes snapped open, Cerbeius was no longer surrounded by flames. His eyes scanned the dark, abandoned alleyway. He breathed in, lips curling up into a smirk.
There were traces of the rogue demon being here, the air had a faint decaying and smoky smell, there were scratches along the brick wall, and there was a claw stuck next to the scratches.
A fresh, tangy smell of blood -human blood- came from somewhere in the shadows.
Cerbeius scoffed. "It didn't even try to cover it's tracks." He started to walk in the direction the scent was strongest. The leisurely stroll broke into a sprint.
He soon came to a stop. The demon was in the area. Glancing around the abandoned road, his eyes stopped at the small flicker of light coming from a liquor store. The smirk came back.
He ran a hand through his hair as he walked to the store. The door made a jingling noise as it closed behind him.
"Y'know, if I were you I'd come out now rather then later. You wouldn't want to be punished any worse, now would you?" Cerbeius let out a low chuckle. A shadow slithered on the wall. There was another flicker of light.
As he walked towards the shadow he snapped his fingers. Instantly the shop lit up. A shriek of pain came from the ugly monster in front of him.
Demons didn't like light.
His smirk widened when the demon began to shake. He took a step forward, cocking his head. Red eyes glared up at him and the demon lunged, hoping to catch him by surprise. It only managed to nick his neck.
Cerbeius's smirk dropped.
"You really shouldn't have done that." He hissed, grabbing the demon by the throat and threw it into the wall.
Glass shattered and a diluted black liquid pooled the floor. He stalked towards the bleeding demon, grabbing on to the demon's hair. He pulled while twisting.
"Any last words?" he asked.
"Fvck you!" it spat.
He grinned manically. "I'd fvck myself if it were possible, too."
It wasn't even a second later that tore the demons head clean off his shoulders. The body was already starting to disappear. Cerbeius smiled.
Back to hell, it went. Why did they even bother trying to escape when they were just going to get caught and sent right back. Cerbeius shrugged, uncaring.
Assignment complete.
*****
There are many ways to die; old age- a slip, a fall, a crash- illness, disease, epidemics- natural disasters, fires, storms- etc.
There are many known ways to die, but there are also those unknown. And those are the circumstances involving Death in all his glory.
His dark cloak like thick, black smoke swished gently in the breeze. Bits of black hair poked out of his hood. The top half of his face was doused in shadow and the glimmering black eyes lurking beneath felt right at home.
A dangerous smirk marred his face as a single name escaped from his lips. "Mathew Sanders."
Mortem nodded, turning around. He outstretched his pitch black wings and glided away, gracefully dodging buildings. From afar he might've looked like a bird dancing in the wind, except he was deadly.
He had to find his target. It was the last one for the day. Trusting his gut, he went in the direction it was pulling him to. He came to a stop in front of a club.
Figures, he thought distastefully. He stepped inside with no trouble. After all, nobody could see him but the target.
The stench of alcohol and B.O. filled the air. His heart may have thumped in sync with the loud music if he wasn't what he was.
The colorful lighting was dim and was almost romantic. People laughed and danced, some did illegal business at the back.
Mortem ignored them, searching with his eyes until they stopped on the fairly young looking, intoxicated, brunette man with a woman on each arm.
Information instantly flooded his head. Mathew Sanders, 6'1, brown hair, blue eyes, 45 years old with no family besides a younger sister who Matthew left behind.
Mortem walked to the man, his gaze cold, not once taking his eyes away. "Come outside." he whispered in Mathew's ear.
The man shrugged the women off of him and exited the club. He didn't understand why he couldn't control his actions, but something was pulling him to the dark alley and he wasn't sober enough to stop himself.
Mortem waited in the shadows as Mathew was out of any onlooker's sight. As soon as the man was where Mortem wanted him, he was pinned against the wall. The man didn't struggle as Mortem strangled him.
As the light left Mathew's hazy eyes, a light blue mist-like substance seeped out of his body. It was Mathews soul. Mortem breathed in deeply, seeing images of Mathew's life flashing on the back of his eyelids. He smiled contently when all of the soul was breathed in.
Souls were his life force and in return, he had to either send them to heaven or to hell. Mathew would definitely be going to hell. Some of the things Mathew had done would give people nightmares. It didn't faze Mortem though, he'd seen much, much worse.
Hell, he'd done worse himself.
The only thing that really mattered was getting the job done and as Mortem calmly stalked away, the blue bruises on Mathew's neck disappeared, leaving nothing behind but his dead body, blood still swimming with alcohol.
Target eliminated.
~~~~~~~~~~1540 words~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright © Tasneem
Unedited