Daily Prompt: An excerpt with a twist

I’m going to cheat a little with this. You see, it does say fiction is allowed and I happen to be writing just that. So I share with you an excerpt from my latest work in progress. 

What was better, the feel of a woman or the smell of blood? As Gabriel withdrew the blade from his latest victim he honestly couldn’t decide. He’d been dabbling in both over the last week, taking two or three jobs a night and then retiring in the last village he was in, finding a courtesan available to share some a bed and some of the wealth he’d earned that evening. Both were better things to contemplate than third that wandered in his mind: his own death. Things had been rough since she left, and when he was alone in the dark of the night, with no one to talk to and nothing but the memories of horrid nightmares to keep him company, the blades on his belt began to look like a wonderful alternative to anything he felt.

He thrust the blade in again, this time, getting the man just under the rib cage, twisting the blade and making him cry out in pain more. It was music to his ears, currently pushing women and suicide out of the running for the best outlet for the things he couldn’t control.

“You know, I never realized how fun it was to make you weaklings scream. “ Gabriel remarked as he pulled out the blade slowly, watching with enjoyment as blood poured out of the wound and the man paled immediately. “Makes me wish I took my time more often.” He smiled beneath the scarf, but he was sure it reached his eyes by the fear coloring the dying man’s eyes. He considered making more of a mess, but his victim was fading too quickly, and there would be no point in mutilating a corpse.

Standing, Gabriel took a handkerchief from the man’s desk and wiped off the blade, tossing the stained cream cloth into the pool of blood before heading for the open window in the study and climbing back out onto the tree branch. He’d been to this manor house five times over the last ten years, and he would have thought that one of the new nobles taking over the residence would be smart enough to cut it down.

He strolled off the manor grounds without alerting anyone, limping for a few steps as an injury he sustained within those first few violence filled days flared for a moment. Gabriel headed straight for the Dexter village tavern, not minding the half hour walk it took to get there, having left his horse in the stable.

As he walked up to the bar, the barkeep prepared his ale and handed him a key. “Your room for the night, sir.” He said with a smile.

“Thanks, Graham.” Gabriel replied, lifting his stein when he was handed it in cheers before taking a drink. As he set it down, a voluptuous brunette climbed on to his lap and kissed him deeply. “I take it you’re free tonight, Persephone.” Gabriel said with a smile as he took another drink.

“Made myself available just for you when Annalee said you went by the inn earlier to reserve a room. Thought we could have a little fun tonight, since we were cut short the last time.” The gorgeous woman replied, running her fingers through his hair.

Gabriel grinned, grabbing a fist full of her hair and kissing her. “I enjoy your feistiness.”

“You never used to,” She remarked.

“Things change.” He shrugged, finishing off his ale and putting a handful of silver pieces on the bar. “Come on, I have a lot of energy I need to work off.”

***

He closed his eyes with pleasure, but forced them back open, not wanting to miss anything. Her long red hair covered her breasts as she perched over him, sighing his name with that mischievous smile he came to miss. He wanted more of her, to kiss those lips, especially that freckle, while she became overcome with him. He sat up, putting his hand in her hair, peering into those dreamy eyes so close to ecstasy.

Then they widened, fear replacing everything that was there before. Her breathing grew ragged, and then he felt the drip on his leg. Looking down, he saw crimson red pour out of Cesara, his hand around the hilt of the dagger driven deep into her chest.

He wanted to panic, but felt himself smiling as if he’d pleased her instead of spilling her blood. He looked over her shoulder and his eyes met cold, grey wicked ones, a smile as satisfied and evil as the one he felt on his face as he held the dead Lady’s body against his. Then there was a dark, boisterous laugh, and he wasn’t sure if it was coming from him, the being with the grey eyes, or both.

He bolted upright, amazed that he hadn’t woken Persephone in his attempt to get out of the nightmare. He had it every night he was with a woman, and the ones he wasn’t he’d dreamed that Duncan was his target and he killed his Mentor with no mercy. No matter what the nightmare, those damn eyes were always there, encouraging him to destroy people he genuinely cared about. 

 

-30-

 

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