revised prologue His Will

Prologue: 1980

The figure lying in bed watched the lights on the ceiling as the car passed the house, watched as they became shadow fingers, crawling across the cracked paint, digits that rose and reached out to claim souls. He shivered and smiled, a cold, dead smile that didn't quite reach ice blue eyes, swept back the covers and rolled to his side, automatically reaching for the jacket from the chair. Moving to the door, opening it just a crack to ensure everyone had gone to bed he listened. There was nothing but silence. Running long fingers through sandy hair, he licked his lips in anticipation.

An apparition, clad in black, crept to the stairwell, pausing briefly at the door of her bedroom, listening carefully for the sound of gentle snoring. He had been preparing for his escape from the house for at least a month now, ever since first hearing the voices pleading for justice. He knew he had been chosen for God's work, now it was time to perfect the calling.

The tall shadow moved on tiptoe, staying against the wall to avoid the stairs that creaked, careful not to brush too close to the velveteen wallpaper, knowing that if he did, it would rustle and she would awaken.

He moved silently to the kitchen and opened the cutlery drawer, reaching inside and taking the key to the back door. Now he worked quickly, his movements furtive, head turned slightly so he could catch any movement from behind him. He opened the door and slipped through, careful to lock it again and store the key in his pocket for his return. Swallowing the shout of joy that came unbidden to his lips, he ran through the garden to the alley tasting freedom.

As silent as a wraith, he walked the quiet residential streets, litter and dead leaves blowing in the Autumn breeze. Somewhere to the left, a church bell tolled three times. Allowing for a brief twirl of pure unadulterated pleasure, he caught himself as he spied her. He had watched her from a distance for a while now, always going in and out of his neighbour's house. God had chosen her for this task, had told him that she was a perfect tool for him to use.

"Perfect," his voice echoed softly.
He ambled innocently across to the other side of the road so that he was still a good distance away from her, but close enough to see her clearly through the lamplight. She really was perfect. He watched the muscle tone in her legs as she walked slowly ahead of him. Beautiful blonde hair just begging for fingers to feel its silky softness. He sped up slightly as she turned into an alley which led to the centre of town. He peeked round the corner and saw she was nosing around quite seriously in an overfilled dumpster, trash cascading over the top, the stench of alcohol and urine overpowering. The spectre watched as she lifted her head and the light caught her eyes making them appear incandescent, he gasped in pleasure as she licked her lips. He couldn't wait any longer, it had to be now.

Keeping to the shadows he crept stealthily toward his prey. She had no time to react as her attacker threw his weight onto her. A gloved hand already clamped on her mouth and holding her jaw tight, she merely whimpered as he drew his knife. He adjusted his position, being careful to keep a firm grip on her with his knees. One mistake and she would run howling into the night. He plunged the blade deep into her chest and drove the instrument of death forcefully down to her stomach. The only sound was a satisfied grunt as he watched her glorious eyes, wide with terror, glaze over as her life force seeped onto the concrete beneath her.
Grinning insanely, the murderer moved back, examining his kill. Another couple of practise hunts on smaller creatures like this and all would be ready. It was so easy, instinctively he had known how to best render the poor bitch helpless, he knew he could have easily been bitten, but His voice had explained what was to be done. Kneeling in front of the Golden Retriever's inert form, he listened to the voices praising him. The spittle on his chin gleamed in the light as he inhaled the coppery scent of death and God was pleased. Peeling the black leather from his hand, he placed a finger into the carcass and feeling a stir in his groin, tasted her blood. Then closing his eyes in pleasure and inserting a hand into the animal, ripped out her heart. He wrapped it almost lovingly into his handkerchief and quickly covered his kill amid the surrounding garbage. Not much attention was paid to the journey home, his hand was busy in his pocket, caressing the trophy. Looking up, he was startled to see he had arrived home so fast and quickly buried the weapon of choice ,bloody handkerchief, and its grisly contents in the back garden under a neglected shrub.

He let himself back into the house, being careful to replace the key in the same place it was before. He hurried upstairs throwing his coat and gloves into his bedroom and grabbed his nightclothes, knowing that if she woke up now, all his planning would be for nothing. He quickly locked himself in the bathroom, cleaned the blood up as much as he could and changed into his pyjamas, cursing quietly when he heard her stir and get out of bed. He flushed the toilet and threw his clothes into the linen basket. His heart started to thud quickly as she knocked on the door.

"You okay baby?" she asked, concern in her voice.

"Yes mum, I'm fine," the boy replied, watching himself in the mirror as he practiced looking sleepy. "Just needed to go to the loo."

She hesitated before answering, "Okay sweetheart, just checking, don't want you coming down with something, it's not every day my little boy becomes a teenager. I can't believe you'll be thirteen tomorrow!"

The son looked at his reflection and smiled. "No mum, neither can I."

He unlocked the door and allowed his mother to hug him. Extracting himself from her smothering arms, and giving her a kiss, the boy went back to bed to dream of talking angels and Gods will.