Chapter 1: Deadly as the sins. chapter one.
I shudder as the clock chimes for the 1am call. I say chimes but it was more like a siren scream. The noise always filled the empty fortress. The echoing of the chime found all corners of the empty halls and forgotten rooms which once upon a time held the most ravishing parties.
My brothers and I could always host a good party but it was my dear youngest sister what always stole the show. Her beauty alone had every head, male and female, turn.
I also had two other sisters but believe me when I say this, they are the hardest females to have any type of relationship with.
I tilt back in my leather chair and close my eyes. Procasonating always made me feel depressed. My condition didn't allow me to have close friends so the lonely nights and the non sober days were taking its toll on me. I missed my family but at the same time hated them. Their selfish needs drove everyone away and put us all as number one targets to be slayed. I must of drifted into some sort of sleep state at some point because none other than Death has intruded and woken me up.
"Haben, I've watched you for the past hour and my god man! You need to find a hobby! It's unhealthy to sit in this study of yours and drink yourself into oblivion!"
I open my eyes to death and give him a scowl. He always looked young for someone who had been around longer than any other living creature. His boyish look, blonde hair which was all gel styled, grey blue eyes which could make females weak just by staring at them, perfect proportioned face and the body of a warrior. Muscles in the right places accompanied by the slashes of war over the years which left him with scars over his arms and neck. He was tall but I towered over him. That bit always made me howl with laughter as I knew it bothered him slightly.
"HABEN!" He demanded. He hated being ignored. Well the man did walk among people without them realising he was there. Only after he touched someone was they able to see him but you know what they say about death touching you. You don't live to tell the tale. Literally.
I gave him a sarcastic smirk picked up my whiskey glass and downed the liquid.
" You know better than to rudely barge into my house and insult me Wren. It better be end of the world important as to why you are here!" I growled at him. He started to approach me and parked himself on the leather sofa just opposite my chair.
After pouring himself a glass of my 15th century year old whiskey, which bothered me how he always helped himself without asking, he looked me dead in the eye and said,
"I have a job for you."
Great. Now who does my brother want me to kill.