Shadows in the Night
Prologue
“Have you given up yet?” Calm, deep voice asked as he stood over the other, eclipsing him and drowning him in his shadow. The city lights glinted off of the knife that was clasped in his hand, sending a bright glimmer into the night. Twirling the knife in between his glove clad fingers, he laughed as he watched his foe struggle to sit up.
“No,” The other spoke. Propping himself up on one elbow, he stared up at the man, detestation gleaming in his eyes.
His lungs took in labored breath after labored breath, making his chest rise and fall in quick succession. Sweat beaded off his forehead and trickled down his face as he tried to get to his feet. His hands shook violently as he grasped the hilt of his own knife, which lay resting in the front pocket of his trousers.
“You’d think you’d learn by now.” Laughing, the man took a step towards the him. Coming within inches of his face, he smirked. “You’re not going to win.”
Eyes widening, the young man inadvertently, taking a step back in his surprise tripped over the uneven cobblestone street. Instinctively his hands shot out behind him to break his fall, and as he hit, he could feel the skin on his palm break. A loud crack emitted from his left wrist, breaking through the thick silence of the night, signaling that his wrist was more than likely broken. Ignoring the pain, he stood up firmly in front of the other, and looked up to meet his glare.
“Learn what?” Was the young man’s stuttered question. Ever since his childhood, his voice had always given way to his true emotions. It wasn’t something that he was proud of, for it had gotten him in to numerous predicaments, such as the one he was in now.
“That you’re not going to beat me.”
“Who says?”
“I do.” The cloaked man gave the knife one last twirl before he pointed it in the direction of his opponent. He watched, with a sly smile as the other, holding his wrist froze with fear. Panicking, he began to bend for his knife, but with the flash of dark, heavy fabric, the knife was kicked out of reach. Laughing loudly, the cloaked man brought his face close to the other’s.
“Goodbye,” he whispered as he raised the knife over his head and brought it back down quickly. The younger man’s screams filled the night, echoing off the buildings; but no one came to help. Raising the knife over his head once more, the taller man began to bring it down again, when his head snapped to look behind him, just as he heard a distant voice call out.
Jesse!
“No,” The other spoke. Propping himself up on one elbow, he stared up at the man, detestation gleaming in his eyes.
His lungs took in labored breath after labored breath, making his chest rise and fall in quick succession. Sweat beaded off his forehead and trickled down his face as he tried to get to his feet. His hands shook violently as he grasped the hilt of his own knife, which lay resting in the front pocket of his trousers.
“You’d think you’d learn by now.” Laughing, the man took a step towards the him. Coming within inches of his face, he smirked. “You’re not going to win.”
Eyes widening, the young man inadvertently, taking a step back in his surprise tripped over the uneven cobblestone street. Instinctively his hands shot out behind him to break his fall, and as he hit, he could feel the skin on his palm break. A loud crack emitted from his left wrist, breaking through the thick silence of the night, signaling that his wrist was more than likely broken. Ignoring the pain, he stood up firmly in front of the other, and looked up to meet his glare.
“Learn what?” Was the young man’s stuttered question. Ever since his childhood, his voice had always given way to his true emotions. It wasn’t something that he was proud of, for it had gotten him in to numerous predicaments, such as the one he was in now.
“That you’re not going to beat me.”
“Who says?”
“I do.” The cloaked man gave the knife one last twirl before he pointed it in the direction of his opponent. He watched, with a sly smile as the other, holding his wrist froze with fear. Panicking, he began to bend for his knife, but with the flash of dark, heavy fabric, the knife was kicked out of reach. Laughing loudly, the cloaked man brought his face close to the other’s.
“Goodbye,” he whispered as he raised the knife over his head and brought it back down quickly. The younger man’s screams filled the night, echoing off the buildings; but no one came to help. Raising the knife over his head once more, the taller man began to bring it down again, when his head snapped to look behind him, just as he heard a distant voice call out.
Jesse!