The Fallowing – The Fourth, Part III

by Steppen Sawicki

Short snippet for right now because I want to post something but don’t want to proofread much because I just edited a whole bunch of chapter one.

Novel: Occult Adventure

Sam had told me what Atsel looked like.  Long brown hair, he had said.  Golden eyes.  And that I would know him when I saw him.

In that instantaneous moment when I brought my gun around, I took in the man who had appeared behind me, and I knew what Sam meant.  This guy was goddamned gorgeous.  The expression on his face was calm, serene.  Angelic.  It hit me like a ton of bricks.

But my muscles were already primed to shoot the gun.  And they did, twice.

I fell to the ground, having reacted to the voice too quickly to make any sort of graceful landing, and rolled away.  When I looked back up, that gorgeous man was still standing there in one piece, examining something before him.

The bullets.  They had stopped in the air, and now just hovered between us.

Where the hell was Sam?

I spotted him to the right, meters away from where he should be, struggling to his feet and clutching his stomach.  He was grimacing in pain.  Something had happened and I hadn’t been a part of it.

“Good reflexes,” said Atsel in a profoundly sweet voice.  “Those will be useful.  The bullets, I mean.  Not the reflexes.”  He stepped around the levitating bullets and I could see now that his face wasn’t entirely serene, wasn’t angelic at all.  Disgust and loathing bubbled just beneath the surface, grasping for air but being held down.

“But really,” he continued.  “You shouldn’t be here.  I was aiming for Sam.”  He grinned, and it would have been lovely had that hate not been there like an oil slick on the surface of water.  “I interrupted something special, didn’t I?”

For the life of me I didn’t know whether I should shoot again or not.  I could distract him somehow, give Sam enough time to –

I glanced at Sam.  He was on his feet but his hands were empty.  No knife.  Shit.

“It doesn’t matter.  Sam.”  He pointed to him, then closed his hand as if beckoning him forward.  “I’m going to kill you.”

I missed something again.  Suddenly Atsel was gone.  Suddenly Sam was in front of me.  Suddenly the bullets were gone, propelled forward again.  Sam cried out and fell back onto the ground.

I scrambled over to him.  Two red blossoms were growing where the bullets had struck his chest.