Death Cursed (Death Touched, Book One)

Chapter 2

The men marched up to her with the bandanna-attired holding back a few feet from the bleeding woman. His eyes were wide as his friend stooped and rifled through Nena's pockets. The gunman lifted her up and yanked her bag off her shoulder.

"Jesus, Darryl, you didn't have to shoot her. . ." he whimpered.

Darryl whipped his head up and glared at his trembling friend as he tossed the bag to his partner. The other man caught the bag in his trembling arms. "Shut up, Willie, and search her bag before the cops come."

Willie swallowed the lump in his throat and knelt down to sift through the large bag. He had just pulled out her purse when something made him look up. The man froze when he caught sight of a shadowed figure at the intersection of the two alleys.

The stranger was about forty and stood as still as a gravestone. He was six-feet tall and wore a black overcoat that reached to the ground. The front was open to reveal black suit pants and a black vest with a black blouse. The coat had a high collar that wrapped around his neck and contrasted sharply to his pale skin. Black gloves adorned his hands, and in one he grasped the top of a black cane. Unlike his short messy black hair, the man's face was thin and deathly white. A skull mask covered much of his features, but it couldn't hide the person's sunken eyes that glowed like cooling coals in a once-blazing fire. Those eyes fell on Willie and made his chilling blood freeze.

"D-Darryl!" he yelped.

Darryl raised his head and noticed the stranger. He stood and walked around Nena to face the stranger in a showdown. The punk raised the gun and pointed it at the interloper. "Get the fuck out of here. Now."

The man shook his head. "I don't wish to interfere. It's too late, at any rate. I would ask as a small favor that your toy-" his eyes settled on the weapon pointed at him, "-be given to me."

Darryl sneered at him. "Over your dead body."

Their dark foe chuckled. "That is not an option. However-" he strode toward them with his cane clacking against the hard ground, "-I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist."

A sick smile slipped onto Darryl's lips. "You want the gun? Too fucking bad. But I'll give you a bullet."

Darryl fired off six successive shots. The partners heard the bullets meet their target as metal buried itself into cloth. They could even see the man's clothes indent with each hit, but the stranger himself didn't notice any of the hits as he continued to walk toward them.

Darryl's mouth dropped open as the man stopped four feet away from them. "What the fuck?"

The stranger stopped and smiled as he drew off one of his gloves. Beneath the cloth was only a hand of bones connected by some invisible method. "You have very precise aim, my young murderer, but I'm afraid you were shooting the wrong target."

The stranger lunged forward and wrapped his bony fingers around Darryl's throat. The thug screamed and dropped the gun to grab the other man's arm as he was lifted off the ground. Willie scrambled back as Darryl's body began to shake. Black smoke rose from his flesh as his skin melted away to reveal his bones. In a few short moments the stranger held a baggy-pants wearing skeleton.

Willie screamed and turned to flee, dropping the bag. His cries echoed through the night as he ran down the alley and disappeared around the corner.

The man sneered at the body in his grasp and tossed the skeleton to the side. He stooped and picked up the gun before turning his attention to the woman.

Nena was still alive, but each labored breath was slowly ticking down to her last. Her vision was blurry, but not so bad that she didn't see what had happened. That's why she cringed when the man stepped up to her and knelt by her side. His dark eyes studied the bloody hole in her chest over her heart before his gaze moved up to her pale face.