The Pain Of Their Presence - Sequel to Sound of Their Presence

Chapter One: .9 Millimeter Priorities

Cheyenne's POV

    One year ago, worrying about how to use the .9 millimeter I now had in my hands, was not something could have ever seen coming. I didn't think I would be hunting down someone else's mom and attempting to kill her. H*ll, I thought my own mother would still be breathing.

    I break down the door on the front end of the white house. The Irish touches of decor almost make me feel guilty. I once had almost made it to Ireland with Shane and his aunt, Jillian. We came so close, so I though, before we crashed in Hawii, instead. But here I am now, about to scorch Lilith's sorry *ss.

     I hold tha dark, cold, hand gun at my eye level. I had shot it many times before in the public target fields in Britain. Travelling by ship had still nearly cost me the beauty, though I would have preferred to run Lilith in with my white, frickin' sparkly horn. There are perks to turning into a unicorn. But, sadly, I needed Lilith's confession.

    I slowly creep along the long, dark halls in the cottage. Pictures of a young family are hung along the walls. I don't know any of them, but I can probably add them to the list of reasons to kill Lilith. After all, they wouldn't be the first innocent group of people to be murdered at her hand.

    A young girl cries from behind a randomly green door. When I have checked the other rooms, just to be sure they are empty, I come back to this one, singley oddly colored door. All the others had been matching blanks.

    "I've got you now, Lilith!" I shout, glee bubbling in my chest. It has been so long since I have felt this kind of happiness. Shame it is accompanied by such strong blood lust . . .

    "Who is Lilith?" questions the young mother from in the pictures in the hall. She holds a whimpering baby in her arms. "Is sshe the docter we called for?" She speaks good English.

    "Something wrong with thte baby?"

    "She is feverish," the woman returns, an edge to her voice. I see the young boy yanking on her pant leg, slightly standing behind her. A tall, masculine man stands next to her, a female toddler with fiery red hair in his arms. The strong looking man's jaw seems glued to the floor, as I slowly back out.

    "I am so, so sorry!" I put my hands in the air, out to the side, after I fit the gun into my waistband.

    Well, that was a dead end.