Seven Deadly Sins: Wrath - Chapter Two

Book One of Seven

Thunder. Lightning coats the black sky. Rain pours down, soaking grass and plants. Renée finally finished closing the windows, and headed up stairs to her bedroom. After getting completely ready for bed, she flicked the lights off, then climbed into bed. What a day it had been. What a day. All that walking made her feet so very tired and sore.

The squeaking of a door opening broke the comforting silence. Renée’s eyes popped open, scanning the room, then looking at the bedroom door. It was closed. She let out her breath that she had been holding, closed her eyes once again, and snuggled deep into the covers. If anything had gotten in, she would hear the stairs creak… shit. The stairs suddenly creaked, banishing the safe feeling that had been putting her back to sleep.

Renée sat up, and grabbed the flashlight that was planted on the nightstand right next to her. There was always that one single stair that squeaked when pressure was applied to it. It had always told her when her roommate was home from some midnight rave. But since she had moved out, there had been no at night creaky stair adventure mystery.

Shinning her flashlight at the door, she waited for her motion light to turn on. If there really was someone, then the motion light would catch them. Renée stared at the door for five minutes and the crack underneath the door, but it never turned on. Switching off the flashlight, lightning blasted and blinded her vision with white fuzziness. When darkness came once again, a small line of light caught Renée’s eyes. Looking at the door, Renée saw that the hall light had indeed turned on.

Getting up and out of bed, she started backing up towards the wall, keeping the door in plain sight. When she hit something… it was… soft. Turning her head, she saw red, then… darkness. Forever.

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"Jesus Christ." Detective Brink muttered under his breath. He wiped his hand over his mouth, while shutting his eyes. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Please, not now. Opening his eyes, he looked at Renée Pranskyes body… five feet away from her head. Blood leaked from both parts, staining the floor.

If Brink didn’t know any better, he was sure that he should submit his occupation to the "Dirty Jobs" show, and get in. This was incredibly disgusting. Who was sick enough to do this? Well, the person who left the message in blood would. Wrath, yet again, was written in Renée Pranskyes blood. Then underneath it, the word hatred was written, also, in blood.

Okay, he had had enough. Turning away, Brink grabbed his Cingular cell phone and dialed the Tremere clan number. "You summoned?" A deep, soothing voice on the other line asked. "Brink!" Kim interrupted loudly, "Who the hell are you calling?" But Detective Brink just waved Kim away with a flick of his wrist. "Pierce." Brink replied, knowing exactly how he must answer to the warlocks. Seconds passed before a voice came again. "Hello Detective Brink."

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