The Bewitching - Book 1

Chapter 4 - Angels and Traitors

Dantes walked slowly along the beach, his mind contemplating what he had just seen as he muttered to himself. His leg swung back and struck out at the baseball sized rock that rested in the sand as he let out a deep, gut wrenching scream. The rock launched into the air with such force that the sand along its path parted. The air cracked like the sound of thunder as it embedded itself several inches into the cliff’s wall not far away.

“Why?! What is the purpose! Do you enjoy these petty games?!” He glared up into the heavens above as his words pierced the sky. The waves of the ocean rose up and began crashing harder against the beach. The particles of sand rose into the air around him. The air shimmered and shook as if he was moving the earth itself. But his cry fell on deaf ears. There was no answer, no response to his challenge.

“Why won’t you answer me! Is this how you rule, by playing with our minds?!”

The air crackled with power. Dantes’ eyes turned from a hazel blue to pitch black as he let loose another scream causing the earth around his feet to shake. His face twisted, his skin rippling and morphing grotesquely. He could feel himself becoming one of them, one of the demons. He felt the hate and rage rising inside of him attempting to completely overtake his psyche. He was losing control of himself, becoming nothing more than a wild animal that only wanted to kill and ravage anything that came close to him.

The air pulsed around him. He could feel that gnawing anger and loss of control growing stronger with every second. His blood began to boil, an intense heat consuming his body and the area around him. The particles of sand closest to him burned up in a blaze of fire.

“No!” he shouted. An eruption of light and heat burst forth from him, consuming the surrounding area. Then all was silent and still. The darkness of night had returned, the moon casting its faint light through the cloudy sky upon the beach.

Dantes had been brought to his hands and knees, the sand around him burnt to a crisp and still smoldering from the intense heat. He gasped frantically for air as he tried to calm himself. Black smoke drifted from his body. His clothing was in tatters from the ordeal. He had almost crossed the line of no return.

“And here I was hoping that today I’d see some action. Not just any action mind you, but the honor of slaying Dantes himself.” The voice was strong and stern, coming from the shadows of the cliff. The glint of moonlight reflecting from steel flashed across Dantes’ face. It was followed by the sound of a sword being sheathed.

“That won’t be today, or any day for that matter.” Dantes smirked as he spoke the words and lifted himself to his feet. “So what do I owe for the pleasure of this visit? Or are you just indulging in your sick fetish with me again, Leo?” The sarcasm dripped from Dantes’ voice as he spoke the words.

A low chuckle floated from the shadows. A moment later, Leo emerged onto the sandy beach. His shoulder length, tousled blonde hair blew in the breeze. He was built like an ancient gladiator, his body lean, and every muscle toned and defined beneath his tunic. A long, ornately fashioned steel blade hung on his side.

The most glorious of it all though were the wings that stretched from his back, containing faint tints of fading reds and blues that blended into a shimmering white color. The tips of the soft, feathery wings were encased in sharp metal points, easily more deadly than any sword that could ever be brandished.

“From traitor to comedian. Who would have guessed?” Leo sneered as he said the words, his wings folding in behind his back.

Slowly he sauntered over towards Dantes. Neither appeared particularly alarmed physically, but their eyes told a different story. There was a deep intensity and hatred behind their eyes as they watched each other closely, ready to move at the first suggestion of an assault.