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PROLOGUE I - Knocking on hell's door

PROLOGUE I - Knocking on hell's door

Becca walked through the cold morning, her medium, curly black hair, a little messed up by the wind. As if the wind itself was a playful child and her hair was nothing but a fun toy. Her white skin was rosy from the cold, her lips were a bit cracked. Besides that, along with a worried expression, the girl was quite beautiful and dressed elegantly. Even though she did it in a kind of laid-back manner.

Black skinny-jeans, high-heels, white shirt, and above it all, a black overall coat, with a red scarf around her neck.

She had an athletic body, almost muscular, like a featherweight fighter, and always made sure that her clothing never showed it so much.

“Men don’t like muscular women”, her mom would say, every time she saw her daughter training. “You’ll never get a nice man if you keep up with this fighting rubbish.”

“Shut up, old hag!” her uncle would respond, provocatively defending the young girl he always called little sister. Even though she used him as a living punch bag for practicing techniques, every single time. “Don’t you know she’s not interested in men?”

“Oh, shut up Don!” Becca would say, pinning him in a well-armed leg-lock, while throwing him to the ground, reveling in her mom’s jaw dropping.

However, despite her constitution, she could not avoid what was bound to come her way.

That man knew too much to live. Yet at the same time, he knew the right words to use, the right way of blackmailing her without getting hurt.

No one in their right mind would be crazy to go out in that strangely cold summer day, so there was not a single living soul in the cafe at that time in the morning besides the barista and the cashier.

And there was also him.

The middle-aged man was dressed in a formal, yet very well cut suit, with a black scarf hanging around his neck. His hair had a military short cut, gray, though his face didn’t show any signs of much aging.

He appeared to be waiting anxiously for someone to show up, until he noticed it was Becca.

“So you came, little girl.” the man said, with a smile in his tone, as he watched the young girl walking towards the table at where he was. “Do you want a coffee? Tea? A latte, perhaps? Did you bring it?”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Cut the crap!” Becca warned, her tone low and cold as the weather outside, yet with a surfacing bit of despair. “Yes, I brought it.” she ended her sentence there, putting a hand in the pocket of her overall coat, and taking a flash drive from it. “Are you happy?”

The man laughed heartily, taking the drive.

“Of course I am happy.” his eyes gleaming with inhuman wickedness. “When in the world would I be able of seeing it for absolutely free?” he laughed again, his laugh echoing strangely through the cafe, as if there was not a single soul but the two of them there.

“You’re disgusting.” Becca said, bitterly.

“Well...” the man started, a sarcastic smile accompanying the acidic tone. “At least I am not the freak that should be in a circus here.”

He stood up, ready to take his leave.

“Watch your back...” Becca warned, anger filling her voice. The air around her seemed to waver, just enough for the middle-aged man to notice. And as he passed her, apparently not scared at all at the immediate change in the pressure between them, he responded.

“Oh, I don’t need to.” he raised the flash drive. “This is you watching my back, for me.”

The girl stood there, angrily speechless, as he left the cafe. She sat down at another table, and thought carefully.

She couldn’t protect him just because he saw her like that. She had to do something. But Becca could not just...

Could she actually...?

But before she could even finish the thought, the whole atmosphere started changing, just as the girl imagined it would.

The thick, cold fog that covered the streets started to lift, giving place to the already expected warm summer morning. And the cafe, completely deserted just a while ago, started crumbling down, little by little.

“Shit!” Becca cursed to herself. That was the reason why the disgusting man didn’t feel afraid of her Spark, even more than just because of having seen the real her.

As the place crumbled and revealed its true appearance of ruin and decadence, she started placing the puzzle pieces together.

“Why the hell was he accompanied by a Lord?” she asked to no one in particular, her voice low enough for nobody outside to be able to listen.

Becca took off her overall coat, and her scarf, tying the latter to her waist, looking around to see a crumpled building. It did resemble a cafe at first sight, but could also have been a bar in the late 20’s. She could almost smell the alcohol, tobacco, and the sex that permeated the time among the decadent bricks of the now devastated building.

The last thought that crossed Becca’s mind was that it wasn’t that nonsensical, that a human like him would lead her to a place like that. Even more if he was indeed accompanied by a Lord.

“Those filthy fuckers love places like this, don’t they?”

And with that last question still floating in the air, the young girl left the ruin, taking her smartphone from her pocket, dialing a number, and waiting for the other side to pick it up.

“Hey, I...” but the male voice on the other side of the line didn’t have time to complete the sentence.

“We have to talk, Don. I have a job for you.”

And she started walking across the warm morning, towards her uncle’s place.

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