The Dark Cold

two

REX

  Rex held the body from behind its neck as it struggled. The first two were both easy kills. Rather, they were too easy. Rex didn't even have a chase. His prey all but squealed and begged for mercy. They felt no pain. Ah, t' was right. But, he was far from a mere Inhuman. With Royal blood of a Vampire and the Celestial blood the Fallen Angel and King of Hell, he had a few tricks up his sleeves. Rex leaned in, his prey squirming in his grip. He smiled and whispered just for the Exhor to hear. 

"It was a pleasure doing business."

The soulless cried and Rex squeezed until the slayer chocked and gasped. Getting bored, he places his other hand right on the man's forehead.

"Shhh, it's alright, " He cooed in a condescending tone. 

And quickly twisted the head right off the body with a sharp c***k and pull. The other half fell with a thud as black blood speaks from its neck.

Rex grimaced. Such a mess. 

  Black blood was extremely hard to clean. He'd know. f*****g exhors couldn't be normal and just have red blood, couldn't they? No, let's have black blood and create a f*****g trend. With no hearts, so it'll make our deaths harder and ruin the clothes of our murderers. No wonder the Axum wore leathers to kill and when they use their human forms. He cursed softly as he let the head slip from his fingers, it dropped making the puddle its blood formed, splatter. It rolled, its eyes upturned into the skull. Some intestines from the first exhors spread over his floor. 

It wasn't like Rex was not going to kill them. That was the only reason he had accepted this on the spot visit. He couldn't let them live, not with what their little group had in mind. 

Their plan was quite brilliant as well. Because they were technically Inhuman, the can pass through the mist that covers the Coven in Lincoln, Nebraska. It was where the Royal Family lived and the Axum, as well as the Axiom all,  stayed. A highly protected Castle sat at the far end of wide acres of land and homes for the Packs that lived under the King and Axums' protection. 

   But, all will be well once more, Rex would send out a small team to be rid of the rest of the Slayers at their little HQ. It wasn't really hard to find them, just follow the stench of rotten eggs. 

There was a knock on the door before it opened and someone stepped in. Rex heard a tired sigh.

"Why, Sir? You know how hard it is to clean up all of this. The shits like oil." 

The voice belonged to Alzono Rakhul, Rex's trusted business partner who took charge of Trades.

Alzono was shorter than Rex, reaching five feet eleven and had caramel skin with hazel eyes and black army cut hair. He was Spanish in descent so his words rolled and he spoke fluently in seven different languages. Human on his father's side and Demon on his birth Mother's, he wasn't nearly as powerful as Rex but, he possessed skills that bested the best of Rex's tactical teams. He was a young demon, only a hundred years old and met Rex when he had first come to America.

  Since then, Rex trusted him as one of the very few that he could. Alzono was a patient male that focused on his work and the survival of his species. He was the only one that knew of Rex's true capabilities and the visions that frequently plagued him. Alzon, though the smallest of the Demons he'd ever met, wasn't one to be underestimated. Rather, he had even gained Rex's respect and protection. 

Rex looked over his shoulder, "Relax, Alzon." 

"Could you have least made it less messy?" 

Rex shrugged and Alzono sighed, a habit he had. 

"Oh and Al?"

"Yes, My Lorde." The half-blood said. It was a bit of a joke to him. Rex's last name on his Stepfather's side. Al walked over a body as a team of Daemen in overalls filed in and began cleaning. 

"Remember that plan you had, for expansion to Lincoln next few years?" 

"Yeah, what about it?" 

"Might happen a little sooner than you think?" 

CHRIS

Fetcher House

Chris sat surrounded by the Fetcher family and friends.

The long mahogany wood table, polished and shinning, was decorated and set by his youngest sister, Annie and his Aunt Lisa. Over a dozen seats were filled, leaving on empty at the end next to Christian. 

  His father had always wanted him to sit at the right-hand side of him. Although, his sister Elizabeth was the eldest and deserves the seat with all the hard ward and dedication to the family. His mother, now that his father was passed on, and as their only son -it was the tradition to sit in that seat- they wanted him to take his rightful place as the heir. With that, Chris didn't feel worthy. Nor was he near as responsible enough or smart enough. 

Christian's mother wants him to take the role of the heir to the Fetcher fortune because of their traditions. 

That may seem so great and he was really honoured but, it meant responsibility and Chris was just getting the hang of that. Plus, it wasn't him and he wasn't deserving of that type of life after he had embarrassed and hurt his family. No, he really wasn't worth it. No one bit.

He was the Black Sheep in the herd. 

Ever since he knew himself, he could tell that he was different. He did his utmost best as a child to fit I but, nobody liked him. He always cast aside, pushed into the dark to fade away. So, he sat there- didn't do anything to change who he was and continued to be ridiculed for simply being different. He didn't play with the other children, didn't have friends, developed a hatred for other human beings- he tolerated the many and accepted only a few. 

   His family would worry about his introverted behaviour. As none of their girls had ever experienced such antisocial manners. But, as he grew, it became more than just his introvert tendencies. 

He gained, sort of like, a power but, he preferred to call it a curse. Which caused insomnia in a nine-year-old. 

The curse started when he turned fifteen. He began to get dreams that turned it to be what would happen in the near or far future. His visions- or premonitions occurred anywhere and at any time, like brief migraines. Some were good, like of Tiana, whose baby was to be a strong ten-pound boy. She was barely a month so no one could've guessed and Chris would have never believed such a thing. 

   Anyhow, he had enough proof to believe. It had saved his life. 

He had dreamed when his Father would die. And though he begged God not to take him away from him, rebuked the Devil against his evil thoughts plaguing Christian's mind. His Father still died on the same day. 

He could also sense every person's emotions in this room. However, he couldn't yet control that and it happened whenever. The room was heady with the presence of sorrow and loss. Frustration and innocent joy. Because of these things- these curses, he was made a freak in school. An outcast. He couldn't make friends without feeling their emotions and seeing their deaths or their family members. When he got the attention he so searched for, it was from the wrong set of persons. And he drifted away from his family. Even further.

  He supposed, he was to be grateful for his curse saving his life. 

He could not.

And while it did save his life, others died and his entire life was ruined. 

His whole family found out. 

The gangs, the drugs, the s*x, the parties. It was the town gossip.

Church Boy Goes Bad!

Shame on the Fetcher's Name?!

Only Fetcher Gone Bad?!

How disgusting! What a disappointment.

Such a disgrace.

Oh, he did that all just for attention.

Did you hear, he was involved with those gang members? He probably killed people. 

His name was plastered over the cover on many newsletters. 

He'd shamed his parents and had to gain the trust of his sister all over again. With the only Cora giving him a chance. His mother couldn't believe her child could do such things and was disappointed in him. His Dad, bless his soul, was the most understanding as he says Chris down to talk. 

   Christian had told him most of it. Leaving out pieces that involved the real-life supernatural in him. He'd done so much wrong in his young life and though he wasn't as nearly as bad as the men that he involved himself in and let bed him, he was still very much guilty of various illegal activities that his Father all sorted out and have Chris the help that he needed to start over. Chris had cried into his Dad's chest and begged to be forgiven. His Dad just nodded and patted his hair, knowing that Christian didn't want to ever have to be a part of something like that again. 

So, at the bottom of that barrel, he called life, was his sexuality. 

Which was just like the rest of him- a malfunction. 

   Being born and raised into a Catholic family, it was a sin to lay with another man and he has done that many, many times. Chris had been hiding his secret since high school when he realized that he was more attracted to Jack Howell other than a Tiffany Goldman. He knew it was wrong in his religion, his church would always hint how homosexuality was an abomination and those who acted upon it was going to hell. And he believed that. He fought for a whole but, then he had drifted and couldn't care what anyone thought of him. During his age to fourteen to twenty-one, he has done things. So many things. Unholy things. His Father had surprisingly understood and only cared about what made his son happy. He was so lucky and so grateful to have had a Father like that. Perhaps, he was just too lucky and now had to live with his brutal reality. 

Oh, how he wished he was crazy.

Then, this might have made more sense.

Maybe he was insane? 

  Then, that would explain everything. 

Yet, after three years of being a new person, he was still doubted. 

His mother's friend, Brittany, didn't want her sons associated with him so, they couldn't even say 'he's at church or stare at each other for too long or they might catch his 'negative influence'. As if he was a f*****g flu! 

Chris sighed as everyone began to dine into this Christmas Eve Dinner. 

People eating heartily, only, there was something- rather, someone missing. 

His father would be the one to add the joy and institute conversation just to see how each and every person was doing. He would smile and hum. 

However, tonight, the environment felt so dry. 

It was sad. 

No one laughed or talked.