AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The Shadow
Fire.
Heat, warmth, and light.
Heat, destruction, and death.
The nature of fire had always fascinated him, the colors even more so. He liked watching the blue flickering in the heart of a blaze, turning into a yellow so white it could blind a man, deepening into oranges and reds like the sun setting over the sky.
Yeah, he liked fire. He always had.
He remembered the first time he had become fascinated by the flames. A boy in the orphanage with him constantly complained about burning under his skin all the time. The idea of it had fascinated him. Then he had seen the flames, colors searing into his vision. The rest of the world, the rest of the colors, never appeared quite right to him. The caretaker of the orphanage had said it was because he had demon eyes, because he was a demon child. He had named him after death too.
Maybe he was, because that very week he had set the man alight and smiled as the sparks danced over his body, the sound of his screams the only irritant in the picture. He didn’t like it when they screamed. The noise fell sharply on his ears, tasted sour on his tongue. He didn’t understand why he could taste sounds, but it wasn’t pleasant with the screams. No, he rather enjoyed they be quiet while he came out of nowhere, the split-second look of something visceral on their faces before he mastered their death.
He hadn’t always understood what that look had been. Emotions escaped him. He saw them, and could recognize them afterward, but he didn’t understand what that terror felt like, or how the pain was experience. How others laughed and cried and empathized and he felt nothing.
Perhaps that was why she caught his attention.
Maybe it was because she emoted more than he had ever seen anyone emote. Maybe it was the flame in her hair. Or maybe it was because she had bound them with something she couldn’t take back.
Whatever it was, from the moment her fire had found his, her fate was sealed.
He sat in the shadows watching her.
The strobing lights in the auction club went over the stage, three women in translucent robes standing in the center. He didn’t look at the ones on the sides, his heterochromatic eyes on the one in the middle. He studied her, the way she blinked at her feet, her face dead to the world. The only sign of her life remained her hair, hair that had grabbed his attention since that first time.
He pretended to sip on his drink, wondering who there was going to die by his hands tonight. They all knew never to bid on her, a trail of bodies of her suitors sending a loud message. Yet, someone always did. Someone always tempted their fates. And someone always died. Last time, it had been a sniper bullet through the brain, the poor shit’s blood splattering across her pale skin. This time, he’d make it more personal. Maybe douse them in gasoline while she watched.
As though feeling his gaze, she looked up. Her eyes swept the crowd of well-dressed men, going straight to the shadowed corners, knowing that’s where he stayed. He liked that.
He saw the moment she saw his silhouette, a mix of hatred and betrayal etched on her face for everyone to see. Her hands fisted at her sides. His obsession deepened.
Though she wasn’t a blaze yet, only an ember, she was his.
He watched her, intently focused on the nuances of her face.
One day, she would be an inferno, and he would be the devil who controlled it.
