Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Dying to be Dead - Chapter 9 - Welcome Back


Gabriel Flung the poor fool without even a care as to where he fell to. He was finished with his meal and had no care to take pity in this dead one. He separated himself from that mortal weakness.  He had to because a conscience would be a costly hazard for his kind. He made himself come to realize that killing was a necessary evil for him. His victims must die, so that he may live on. He always tried to put no more thought into it than that. Into the cold city night Gabriel ventured out to find his Lana once more. Perched upon the meddling psychiatrist’s balcony railing, Gabriel waited there for a glimpse of his sweet girl. He decided to wait to retrieve her.. It had been over a month since he had held her in his arms and tasted the sweet nectar that pumped through her veins. It wouldn't be long before it was time to cross her over to be his midnight bride forever. This “doctor” would only be a minor inconvenience for them. He recognized the usual rhythm of his Lana’s heart. He leaned against the glass of the balcony window, but then backed away sharply. He had felt a calling within him. It brought an even heavier chill to his frigid body..

 “Not now! It couldn't be!” he thought as he turned away from the balcony window. 

Azazel had awakened from his quarter century slumber as quick as a flick of a light switch. He knew it was time, time to do something about Gabriel’s foolishness again. He had lost track for how many centuries he had been burdened with Gabriel’s antics now. Azazel remembered the beautiful young thing that Gabriel was when he first brought his fledgling over into darkness so very long ago. Azazel was instantly attracted to Gabriel’s careless passion for life. Gabriel seemed so alive and he brought everything around him to life. He added color to the endless darkness that engulfed everything that Azazel knew. He was attracted to him like a moth to a flame. In his repetitive existence, Gabriel had been his light at the end of a darkened tunnel.  The truth of the matter is Azazel knew he should have known better. He had seen this very thing happen with other immortals. He himself was a product of death’s evil hand. Through the passing of Azazel’s immortal gift to Gabriel’ he also passed something else unto him. He passed death unto Gabriel. Gabriel became that same empty shell that Azazel was far too familiar with himself. 
He suffered century upon century of Gabriel cavorting among the humans, trying to win them over with such sentimentalities that it made him sick. He allowed it for too long. It enraged Azazel that Gabriel could be so weak. He was weak to that warm, mortal flesh and envious of the lifeblood that pumped through their veins. Azazel hadn't any idea that the dark blood would change Gabriel so drastically. They had drifted apart over a century ago and Azazel had returned to his slumber from time to time, all the while hearing his blood child from within his temporary grave. He saw him as well within his mind’s eye. He could feel Gabriel’s hunger for life and adventure, his need to find enduring companionship. He felt his heartache and failures with lost loves and plaguing loneliness. Azazel stayed out of Gabriel’s way through many of Gabriel’s foolish games. He decided it was time to put an end to Gabriel’s foolishness. This girl was too young and he could see that Gabriel was making the same mistake that he had made so very long ago. Gabriel was crossing this girl into darkness to feed on the way she made him feel alive. Azazel wanted to see this woman child for himself. What was it in her besides her living soul that he so prized? Moving about was harder in this century. Mortals in this time were far more observant than in centuries past. By the look on the face of his first recent victim, he realized his look needed some touching up before he could be seen in the outright public eye.
He decided to put on this beggar’s clothes for now. His depression era knickers were no longer suitable. This change of clothing was filthy and disgusting, and looked very strange and baggy on him. He knew a bath would be in order to make him more presentable. Azazel walked out of the alleyway, looking like a dirty homeless man. He walked as mortals do for half a block until he came upon exactly what he’d been looking for. He stood directly in front of a two story apartment building. In a second story window he saw an attractive young man playing a guitar, sitting upon the window sill. He wasn't very good at guitar playing at all. It was the beauty of the young man that struck Azazel the most. It was a young one. He couldn't have been any older than maybe twenty. His skin was fair, like milk, but his hair was artificially black. It hung defiantly across half of his face. His clothes were tight on him in an almost feminine way. It was charming. It reminded him of his French garb of days gone by. Azazel stood there down at the curbside and called out to the young man. He did this without the necessity of one spoken word. Instantly the young man stopped playing his guitar and sat it down on the floor. He got up and walked away from the window out of sight. After only a couple of minutes, the door to this apartment building flung open and out came the young, pretty man. There was a completely glazed over look on his face. His obnoxious black hair fell over most of his face. He approached Azazel with open arms. Azazel’s talent for controlling mortal minds had not weakened with time.  If anything, it was stronger than ever. He gathered all the information that he thought he would need to know for this era in the mind of this young, susceptible victim. Kevin was beautiful alright, but easily manipulated. Azazel felt no pit for those who were so weak minded. Kevin lived in his upstairs apartment alone. It worked out to be very convenient for Azazel. He helped himself to a shower, shave, and wardrobe change. Azazel reveled in the conveniences that this modern time held. He appreciated that he could get a shower with hot water without heating it up by a fire, and how there were razors with plastic handles ready to use and then just throw away. When he was through with his hygiene regimen, he looked himself over in a full length mirror. “Welcome back”, he whispered. He admired the familiar face and felt that powerful ambiance once again. His blonde hair had grown to an outlandishly long length through his slumber, so he cut it to match poor Kevin’s style, short in the back and long bangs protruding into his face. He put on a pair of denim jeans that were bluer than the daytime sky he still remembered from so long ago. His shirt was black linen and skin tight. Although, it felt good pressed against his cold, hard chest. He looked himself over one more time, brushed the hair off to the side out of his eyes and knew that it was now time to go.

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