Immortal Souls: Death's Vendetta

Immortal Souls

Death's Vendetta

K R Biddick

Copyright 2017 K R Biddick

Created by K R Biddick & J M Demler

Smashwords Edition, Licence Notes

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Chapter I

Demon of Light

A faint light appeared, flickering gently on the granite walls, illuminating at times whilst a peaceful instance of dark solace at others. Two men, waited impatiently in a small room, an ancient timber desk in front of them, blocking their exit to the winding passage ahead. They glanced up only briefly, knowing the source of the light still had far to come.

One of the men, Vicrom, raised his hand and a small bulb of fire appeared to fly from his palm, hovering mysteriously, gifting the small room light enough to see. He shuffled timidly to the side of his companion and made to offer some wine but caught his sleeve on the frayed tassels of the cloth covering the table.

‘Keep it together,’ he mumbled to himself. He needed to be flawless tonight, not the bumbling sideshow he often was.

They watched the light grow stronger as it wound its way towards them, infuriatingly slow. Their impatience was fuelled by a number of things; their naturally hostile demeanour, the unpleasant task at hand and a great displeasure at being kept waiting, whilst their thoroughly unexciting journey to this point in time did not help matters.

Through the sprawling tunnel, they had walked. It gorged its way through the hard earth millennia beforehand, its origin long forgotten. It dove steeply at the entrance, so much so that one could simply stand and slide down the slope, small crumbling rocks underfoot. Once the drop evened out to a more leisurely angle, it began winding for miles, kinking frequently as if a giant snake had burrowed it. When the passage finally reached its end, the room in which they emerged was entirely unspectacular. One desk with two aptly built chairs on either side. There was room enough to squeeze against the desk and wall for the average man but a large man, like the man who now sat behind said desk, was forced to clamber over it.

‘Another,’ instructed the seated man, placing an empty crystal goblet on the table. The authority in his voice suited the undoubted authority of his physique. Though he was seated, his height was noticeable, the breadth of his shoulders challenged the size of the room at every angle.

Vicrom jumped at the booming voice which was magnified terribly in the cramped quarters. From the corner of the table he juggled with a cask of red wine and proceeded to fill the glass. Vicrom was a scrawny man; long pencil thin arms half covered by a black buttoned shirt, the long sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The shirt collar was flared up which hid his unusually long neck. Like a piece of uncooked spaghetti he was, thin and frail. He had long curly red hair which he had tamed by knotting together the locks and fastening the tail under his collar. Perhaps his appearance would seem strange to the ordinary, however even the extraordinary would gasp at the man they saw, for this was no man. Under his wild hair, black shirt and tight pants, was pure unblemished red. Deeper than the red of his hair, like freshly spilt blood, his skin as it was. Vicrom was a proud Demon, though not an overly brave one. He stood tall but his skinny frame seemed to shrink when spoken to.

‘More,’ said Lucifer, when Vicrom shaped to finish pouring.

‘Of course,’ Vicrom obeyed.

A loyal servant to Lucifer, Vicrom had been for the last five years, since he had come of age not long after the death of his father, yet still every day he jittered in fright every time Lucifer spoke to him. Those jitters turned to fits of shaking when Lucifer fixed his eyes upon his own frailty. It was taxing to have such frightful help, but fear, Lucifer relished, had its place and as the leader of the underworld there was plenty of it.

Down the hall the light grew stronger, there was now a whisper of boots scraping along the ground. Interest in this meeting had been high within Hellios, Lucifer himself had encouraged it to take place, even insisting he attend personally. It was vital it went smoothly, with no surprises, he had invested enough time and planning into getting what he wanted, someone such as Vicrom would only cause disruption. Lucifer doubted his rival, the Allfather, would attend, he would send a representative, surely, regardless of the fact the meeting was being held in these derelict caves. The caves, which cored through the earth beneath Purgatory, were known colloquially as the Courtly Caverns, the name stemmed from the fact that it was impossible to commit acts of violence within them. The deadliest of enemies would be held to grimace and scowl at each other, words the worst which could be shared. For the first sit down meeting between the representatives of Hell and Heaven in five hundred years, the Courtly Caverns suited quite nicely.

Lucifer flicked his fingers against the rim of the glass sending a sharp echo through the room and out down the entrance hallway. Patience was a virtue he was loath to demonstrate. He rapped his thick knuckles now on the bare timber showing through a hole in the ragged table cloth.

‘Hand me the register,’ he said.

Vicrom clapped his hands nervously and a small scroll appeared before him with a pop. He plucked it out of mid-air and laid it in front of his master.

Lucifer studied the small print before him.

‘His final date is almost here,’ he said strongly, more to himself than to Vicrom.

‘Yes, Sir,’ murmured Vicrom, unsure if he was being addressed.

‘They will have their own plans, to be certain,’ thought Lucifer aloud. ‘More the pity for them, this one is mine.’

Both Demons looked up at a jolt of sound from ahead.

‘Who would he send?’ asked Vicrom, his voice quavered slightly as Lucifer’s eyes turned slowly towards him. ‘You, uh, don’t think…’ he broke off quickly. ‘Never mind,’ he murmured fixing a doleful stare at the ground. He could feel Lucifer’s anger rising, both at Vicrom’s incapability of speaking his mind and of the fact he knew where his mind was taking him.

‘Do not,’ started Lucifer, a quiet fury behind every word, ‘dare say that name.’

‘I won’t, I didn’t. Please forgive me my lord,’ Vicrom apologized. He pulled at his collar and shifted his feet uncomfortably.

‘You are pitiful, Vicrom,’ stated Lucifer bluntly. ‘If you spent half as much time harvesting souls as you do apologizing for your numerous blunders you’d be one of my elite. Your father was a legend in his own right, only serving me in his later years. He’s the only reason I keep you around, soon your credit will expire and you’ll have to make your own way.’ He drained the remaining wine from his glass, his tone changing to resentment. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he sent him, just to spite me.’

Back along the winding passage a man walked on patiently, ever closer to his quarry, knowing full well the annoyance his delay was causing the party waiting. Peculiar again was this man, a Demon himself to be sure as evidenced by his deep burgundy skin. However the light which guided him through the dark hall was produced by no lamp clasped in his hand, no burning sconces along the walls not even a hovering ball of fire as was being put into effect by the Demons waiting in the final room. Radiating from the man’s body was pure joyful light; he glowed as if he were a walking star. Light like this could not be compared to such mediocre forms of illumination; this was spiritually uplifting as well as visibly beautiful. It cast itself within every crevice of the stone walls and with every step the man took, it passed over every inch of the cavern with a smooth caress, a gentle hello and goodbye to old friends. To place eyes on the man was initially blinding, a temporary shock as the warmth trickled from the sensual vision to settle deep within your soul. White light deafened the furious Demonic skin beneath; it enriched the welcoming features of his round face. His greasy brown hair was long, sitting forward on his head, hugging his ears, his matted fringe lazily swept across his forehead. Eyes, which reflected peacefulness not quite expected of a man of his size, were a smooth brown like recently swirled paint. Patches of unkempt facial hair scattered across his fleshy cheeks and padded jaw. Thick tree trunk legs were a sturdy base for his massive upper body all flowing swimmingly with a strong back and superior posture. His wardrobe was simple, much like any man, a white shirt covered with a waist length, black leather jacket and dirty black jeans. The cavern hallway seemed that much smaller as his imposing frame stomped ahead, his shoulders sometimes scraping against the encroaching walls.

As he turned a sharp left, the wall not far ahead of him glimmered with a faint light. He was close now, he knew who awaited him. It had only been two years since he had defected, the wound would still be ripe for Lucifer but this was his role now, the path he had chosen was clear. What was a man if he didn’t have choice? The memory of his recent conversation with the Allfather came to mind.

‘Are you sure?’ the Allfather had asked. ‘I would understand if you didn’t want to attend, you are still fresh to this change.’

‘I am ready,’ Magus confirmed. ‘Lucifer does not frighten me.’

The Allfather inclined his head approvingly, ‘Nor should he. Of course the choice is yours. Remember, keep it short, the Register has already locked in the candidate; we just need to let it play. Lucifer shall get what he wants, to a point.’

Giving Lucifer what he wanted was not something Magus enjoyed but he saw the big picture, potential at this point, there were still many variables but the boy was going to die anyway.

A few minutes later Magus slowed his step. The light shining from ahead and his own were merging as they came together.

‘Who has he sent? Present yourself, Demon of Light,’ boomed a powerful voice.

Around the final corner Magus strode, wedging himself through the small doorway into the tiny room occupied by two Demons, both of whom he recognized immediately, their features thrown into the encompassing light. Vicrom hadn’t changed since he had last laid eyes on him during his escape from Hellios, still timid and thin. Apart from Lucifer’s eye he was the same as ever, slow aging and despicably horrible. Magus recalled when he had inflicted that wound upon his former master; it was a pleasurable memory though he was surprised Lucifer hadn’t healed it since then. It was his left eye sitting motionless in its socket so black you would almost think it was a window right to the heart of his head. Life still flickered somewhat in his other eye, darkened by the more sinister red of his skin, there was a gleam staring out of it, piercing and thin. The veins in his bald head throbbed violently as his temper raced; he pulled at his long goatee which was as stiff as steel wool.

‘You!’ he shouted, slamming his fists on the desk. ‘He dares sends you into these caverns, you dare enter them!’

Vicrom shrunk into the corner slightly, fidgeting with his sleeves.

‘I will kill you, Magus, I’ve said it before but this time I will succeed.’

‘Not today I’m afraid’ said Magus. ‘These are the Courtly Caverns after all. Perhaps that’s why this room is so small; forcing us into close quarters in the hopes we can work through our differences.’

Lucifer flew to his feet, for a second his closed fist burst into flame but it was gone when he whispered with a piercing fury. ‘You see my eye, look at it! You may question why I haven’t had it healed. It is because I need to be reminded of my failure. Disgraceful Demon you are, turning against your own. There will be a time when you will be vulnerable and I will be there to take your soul, bright lights and all.’

‘I may not be able to kill you, Lucifer, but I’ve strength enough to withstand you. I’ll always get away and I’ll always enjoy being that thorn in your side, be sure to tell me when you’ve had enough.’

Lucifer sat down, his initial anger subsiding. Vicrom guided the tail of Lucifer’s long black cloak over the back of the chair, the worn edges still reaching the floor.

‘Your acquaintance with the Allfather gives you confidence,’ said Lucifer. ‘False confidence of course. You have not changed, you only believe you have. I can see the darkness within you still, the Allfather sees it too. Fight it all you want, despise that part of yourself but eventually the burn of his voice will emerge and you will be consumed. The return of the once powerful and merciless warrior will be complete.’

Magus said nothing but took a seat opposite Lucifer, gazing briefly at the curled scroll on the desk.

‘I assume you have checked your copy?’ asked Lucifer.

‘We have. All is in order from our end.’

‘Good. It will be intriguing to have a Leod contend the IFC this year. As a former champion I’m sure you will be in attendance.’

Magus smiled, he knew if he attended he would be fair game to Lucifer. ‘I’m sure I’ll be there in some form or another.’

Lucifer curled his lips in a cruel grin. ‘Be sure to stop by, I’ll have the best seats in the house.’

‘Uh, excuse me.’ Vicrom had reappeared, his thin face a milky red of queasiness. It was quite clear, the vast difference between the power of the two seated Demons and himself. ‘Shall we mark it in?’ he asked.

Magus clicked his fingers and an identical scroll, to that which Lucifer held, appeared in his own hands. He stretched it across the table and located the name previously agreed upon. ‘Why this mortal?’ he asked.

Lucifer had located the name on his own register and pressed his thumb against it, leaving a scorched print. ‘I think you know well enough or at least the Allfather does. This would never have been agreed upon unless he did.’

Magus pressed his thumb against the register and Vicrom clapped enthusiastically.

‘All done,’ said Vicrom. ‘I think this went very well.’

Magus stood abruptly, his register vanishing in a flash. ‘If that is all.’ He turned and left, following the winding passage back to the surface.

Vicrom ignored him as he arranged for his copy of the register to vanish but Lucifer watched him go, thinking of all the pain he would cause him should they meet again.

‘Does he suspect?’ asked Vicrom.

Lucifer stood, placed his hand on the desk and burnt it to a cinder. ‘Yes, he does but it doesn’t matter. It’s a gamble for us as well; the mortal could go either way, we just need to stack the odds.’

‘You really think he could succeed Magus?’

‘Your questions are tedious and lack foresight, Vicrom,’ scolded Lucifer. ‘Thinking that far ahead is pointless, we can only envision what could happen. There are considerations which we can control, we start with those.’

‘But, will he be as strong?’

Lucifer turned and stared straight into Vicrom’s fearful eyes, ‘I handpicked this one, it took me years, he will be feared.’

Chapter II

Blind Passion

‘Faster!’ Conrad yelled, urging his pupil on. ‘Harder!’

Kodel’s energy was almost spent but he pushed his body to its limits. The muscles in his shoulders screamed as he continued to lift his heavy arms and propel his fists forwards, hammering them into the large red punching bag Conrad held in place before him. The contact he was making was poor due to his exhaustion, the slippery surface of the bag, which was coated in a thin layer of his sweat, didn't help, but he kept working until he could no longer lift his arms. By the time Conrad finally told him to rest he was meekly swinging his chest, flinging his fists feebly.

‘On your back,’ instructed Conrad. ‘Sit ups, now.’

‘Really?’ Kodel wheezed.

Conrad balanced the punching bag against the gym wall and rolled out a thin blue mat. ‘Smash this last set,’ he answered.

Kodel did as he was bid and lay on the mat provided. At least he didn’t have to us his arms for this exercise. He groaned as Conrad pressed his foot on his abdomen.

‘Count them out,’ said Conrad.

At the end of the set, Kodel let out a grunt of achievement. He outstretched his limbs and felt his muscles throb while he stared up at the ceiling, sweat dripping from his brow, burning when it fell in his eyes. It would be awhile until he was comfortable to stand up but as it always was with Conrad, there was no rest. Unceremoniously he was sprayed with a jet of water, the coolness of it soothed his flushed face.

‘Up you get,’ said Conrad, taking Kodel’s hand and helping him to his feet. ‘I’ll grab you a fresh bottle.’

‘Thanks,’ said Kodel. It had been a hard slog these last few months; early morning training sessions with Conrad after even earlier morning runs alone. He had though, successfully kept to his training regime which was an accomplishment all to itself.

‘Are you using this?’ asked a tall man, pointing towards the run down shoulder press Kodel was leaning on.

‘Go ahead,’ said Kodel, crossing the room to sit on a bench while he waited for Conrad to return. He watched as the tall man fiddled with the weights of the old machine. This gym was old, a small basement under a seedy pub in the slums of the city. There was little ventilation in the building so the mouldy smell of sweat hung around, seeping into the dewy brick walls like an invisible stain. All the equipment was either out of service or temperamental at best. The people were good though, poor but kind and hard working. Like Conrad, a bartender by night and a successful personal trainer by day. Though Kodel had the money to afford to attend a better gym, he didn’t bother, it was Conrad he needed, nothing state of the art about him.

‘Here you are,’ said Conrad, handing Kodel a bottle of water and taking a seat beside him.

‘Cheers, said Kodel, taking a long drink. ‘So what do you think, will I be ready for the bouts next week?’ It’s what he had been training for all this time, the chance to compete among his peers, to fight in the ring and test his capabilities. His exact reasoning behind targeting this vicious sport he couldn’t quite recall but ever since he had begun his preparation, the dull monotone which had become his life held a small dash of colour within every day. Hannah had not quite understood but she was undoubtedly supportive.

Conrad scratched his chin, well hidden under his furious red beard. ‘Listen, Kodel,’ he said in his thick Irish accent. ‘You’re fit, ain’t no doubt about that but my concern is how you take a punch. It’s one thing to throw them out and another to take one.’

‘Ah don’t worry about that,’ said Kodel, waving his hand then suddenly wincing at the pain in his shoulder. ‘I’ve taken plenty before.’

‘Well then, we shouldn’t have a problem,’ said Conrad. He stood up and patted Kodel firmly on the back of the shoulder, grinning as Kodel recoiled. ‘Will you and Hannah be by for a beer later?’

Kodel got up as well, his legs a little wobbly. ‘Not tonight, I imagine I’ll be back at work late, again.’ It was often the case for Kodel, working late to meet the demands of his job, to the detriment of his social life. Straight out of school he had taken a role as an administrator at Power Corporation, almost immediately he had regretted it. Despite a comfortable income there were variables in a job that could not be justified by the wage. In Kodel’s case it was the company’s questionable ethics and the man who ran it, Wayne Powers. He was a ruthless leader with an unrelenting drive for power and success; no one was expendable, not least Kodel.

‘Ah well. I’ll see you tomorrow morning then.’

Conrad wandered off towards the stairs while Kodel took a left into the dressing rooms and the cockroach invested showers. As Kodel was inclined to do whenever there was a mirror nearby, he took time to examine himself and the body he was sculpting, his brown eyes shimmered with vanity. Several months of hard work had paid off, quite noticeable around his midriff where there was now a toned visage in place of a cuddly cushion which had previously threatened to blow out. His arms and shoulders had benefitted from this morning’s workout, they still throbbed, it was almost as if he could feel them growing. Leaning a little closer to the mirror he examined an indistinct scar on the bottom of his chin. It was during his monthly shave that he had cut himself; he hadn’t thought it that deep but the scar lingered to prove otherwise. Running his hand through his thick crop of brown hair, he made a mental note to book a haircut; ordinarily he kept it short with clippers but recently he had not had the time. He scratched the bridge of his nose as he held back a sneeze; it was slightly larger than average and it crooked to the left, an abnormality he didn’t mind having. It set him apart from everyone else, made him unique in a way. A loud ringing broke the silence of the empty change room. Kodel retrieved his phone from the side of his bag and answered it quickly, if it was his boss it would be a mistake to keep him waiting. He was only slightly relieved when he heard his assistant’s voice at the end of the line.

‘Kodel, where are you?’ asked Cameron, the stress in his voice clear. ‘Powers is on the warpath, you know he insisted we all be in early today to prepare for the audit.’

Kodel had completely forgotten his conversation with Powers the previous night. It had been late, he was tired so could you blame him for forgetting? Powers would, certainly.

‘I’m on my way,’ said Kodel, already halfway in the small cubicle which was the shower. ‘Fifteen minutes.’

Twenty minutes later he was rushing through the large glass doors at the entrance of his employers building, suit on but fiddling with his tie painfully. The grand reception of Power Corp was empty but for a plump elderly lady with greying brown hair styled with a respectable perm. She sat, hammering at her keyboard with a fluid tapping, behind a large counter in the centre of the room, looking quite insignificant as she did so.

‘Morning, Judy, new top?’ Kodel asked politely as he strode past her swiftly to the elevators down the hall.

‘It’s my new cardigan, early birthday present,’ Judy replied, beaming up at him.

‘Well it looks great,’ he complimented. ‘Catch you for a coffee later?’

‘I saw your desk this morning; I doubt you’ll have time.’

Kodel stepped into the empty lift, pushed for the top floor, smiled and waved as the doors closed. ‘Sounds ominous.’

Judy was right; his desk was a mess, the piles of documents easily visible from the other side of the room. With nothing more than a cursory nod to the few people who had already arrived for work, he made his way across to his chair and slumped in it. Immediately a feeling of futility fell upon him. There was still work he hadn’t finished from last night scattered across his keyboard, new post it notes were stuck on his monitor covering old ones he had not completed yet. Neither the bright colours of the notes or the smiley faces punctuating work instructions from his colleagues made the tasks any less daunting. He gathered up all the loose paperwork and piled it untidily in his in tray which was overflowing into archive boxes beside his drawers. Just as he was beginning to read through his emails, Cameron scooted over to his cubicle on the wheels of his chair. Cameron was an eager young man but since he had started six months ago, Kodel had struggled to connect with him. Trivially, he often thought it because he didn’t trust blonde men.

‘Finally,’ Cameron said. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Elsewhere,’ said Kodel smartly. ‘Are you going to be ready for the meeting at ten?’

‘Are you?’ asked Cameron, nodding towards Kodel’s hectic desk.

‘Leave me to it, we’ll catch up then.’

Cameron rolled back to his own cubicle. Kodel began to galvanize himself for a trying day.

‘This makes me very unhappy,’ he sighed to himself, trying a little dry humour to lift his spirits.

The statement was true enough. It was draining, executing the volume of work Powers expected Kodel to complete. Every morning his spirits would plunge as he was drowned in the waves of work passed his way, he was lucky, come the end of the day, to break free and gulp down enough air before being dragged back down once again to the soggy depths of office life. When he had first joined the organization he enjoyed the challenge and more often than not he delivered but then there was more, there was always more. He began to wonder if Powers enjoyed watching him struggle through his day, never once getting ahead in the tasks put to him. He certainly enjoyed unloading criticism when he would undoubtedly fail to meet deadlines or made simple errors in the work he did complete. Slowly Kodel became aware of Powers' true feelings towards him. It was pure unadulterated hate. Why, he couldn’t be certain, but it was there. Undoubtedly, everyone else in the office was treated poorly but never as cruelly as he was. Perhaps it was naivety that blinded him in the beginning but by the time he cottoned on to the treatment he was receiving he was too heavily invested; personally and professionally, it was too late to leave. Power Corporation, publically, was a legitimate business with many third party investors but privately it was involved in numerous underhanded transactions. Some were ethically questionable but most were downright illegal. Unbeknown to Kodel, these had all been recorded fraudulently with the paper trail landing right on his desk. He very rarely had time to review the countless documents he signed off and processed. Sure, it was all done at the instruction of Powers and should the authorities come calling he would fall as well but Kodel would go with him for a certainty. Once or twice he had thought about disappearing, running far away but Power Corporation had a long reach. With his intimate knowledge of the company he wouldn’t get far, Powers would hunt him but it wouldn’t be to get him back. Like a pig in a blanket, tucked in so tight, if he dared move, everything, his entire miserable life would unravel. Thankfully he could admit that not all aspects of his life were miserable, just one thing kept his heart beating.

‘Kodel!’

Kodel looked up, shaking himself out of his wandering thoughts. Wayne Powers stood beside him with a slight slump in his back.

‘Mr. Powers, what can I do for you?’

Powers surveyed Kodel with his bulging brown eyes, taking a moment to scratch his unshaven face. He was an ugly man and surprisingly, for a man of his position, unkempt. His face was grubby with bits of food caught in the hair around his mouth; the copious amount of aftershave he applied could never hide the stale smell about him, like a pile of wet clothes. What hair he had left on his head was muddy brown, slippery with jell to cover the bald. Protruding through his buttoned suit jacket, which today was an uninspiring grey, was a hefty stomach held aloft by a deceivingly strong barrelled chest. Around his neck he wore an awful tie, its colours dark and depressing including a stroke of brown which clashed with his unnaturally large brown eyes, they seemed to pop further from their sockets than was normal. Though he was short and rotund Kodel knew not to cross him. Looks were deceiving.

‘I’ve a meeting with the auditors later today,’ informed Powers. ‘I’m expecting they’ll want to go over a few things with you when they come in next week, processes mainly. Will you be ready for that should they ask?’

‘Sure,’ said Kodel, ‘but if they want to see examples I’m going to need to prepare and at the moment,’ he gestured at his workload, ‘I don’t really have the time.’

Powers whiskers bristled. ‘Find the time.’

Kodel rolled his eyes as Powers slouched away into his office. He called Cameron over to his desk and began distributing some of the tasks which required immediate attention. Over the course of the day he and Cameron worked quite efficiently, neither had any interest in small talk with the other so the hours flew by. By late afternoon they had got through all of the previous day’s work and now only had the boxes delivered earlier that morning to go through.

‘Listen, I’m going to head out for a quick coffee,’ said Cameron. It was almost four o’clock and they were just beginning on the first box.

‘Sure thing,’ said Kodel not turning away from his monitor.

Cameron hesitated then said quietly, ‘Uh, you want anything?’

Kodel shook his head and Cameron raced off before he could change his mind. Through the windows the sky was turning black as the sun disappeared behind the skyscrapers of the city. It looked like it was going to be a cold night as the rain clouds had well and truly settled in, the windows being buffeted by heavy winds. Kodel kicked back in his chair and stared up at the mouldy grey ceiling, trying to focus his vision. After staring at a monitor all day his head throbbed and eyes ached. Small print scrolled in front of him as if he was still typing but he knew the routine, give it five minutes and his sight would return, like the ringing in your ears after standing too close to a speaker. A little while later, once he was confident he would be capable of driving, he opened his draw and searched for his keys thinking he’d leave early considering all the work they had got through. As he rummaged for his keys through pens, paperclips and other office assortments which had found their way into his desk drawer over the years, he caught the scent of fresh roses and liquorish, instantly he knew what it was. He sat back up in his chair and grinned, standing in front of his desk was the reason, above all else, he persevered. She was smiling at him with a hint of mischief in her magical green eyes. ‘What are you up to?’ he asked. She was taking an awful risk coming to see him here, though he wasn’t sorry she had come.

Hannah simply stared at him and grinned, setting off her cute little dimples he loved so much. Kodel gave her an obvious appraisal, looking her slowly up and down. It looked as though she was dressed for a night out. She wore a pair of silvery white stiletto heels matched with the black strapless dress he had given her for her birthday last year. Her dark red hair flowed gently down her back; she tossed a few strands over her shoulder as she leant down to give Kodel a firm kiss on the cheek, leaving a print of bright red lipstick. He and Hannah had been seeing each other for almost a year now and he knew, even in his youth, that he would love no one else. They were both young, only twenty two, but they had been destined to meet and every moment he spent with her was nothing short of perfect. But Kodel’s life was anything but perfect and sure enough Hannah came with one drawback. There was one thing that would always stand between them, one thing that stopped them from submerging themselves completely in each other’s lives. That one thing was Hannah’s father, Wayne Powers. Of course he wasn’t aware of his daughters personal life, nor Kodels, in fact he didn’t know that they were on first name basis. He remained woefully ignorant of his daughter’s feelings and let a man he hated become the single most important person in her life. Kodel shuddered to think what would happen if he found out about them. He knew their relationship was putting his life at risk and possibly Hannahs as well but they were meant for each other. He would fall into her arms at the end of the day and feel slightly less mundane, more human, the sensation of being as light as a feather and for a while, carefree.

‘Are you crazy?’ asked Kodel. ‘Your dad’s office is literally right there.’ He whispered, searching the office to see if anyone was watching. A little frightened but equally excited. Hannah did enjoy living on the edge.

‘Are you ready to go?’ she whispered back.

Kodel made to get to his feet. ‘Let’s hurry then, before we’re seen.’

‘Uh ah,’ said Hannah, pushing him back to his seat.

‘You’re nuts,’ insisted Kodel when she hitched her dress and straddled him. She was so close, it felt wonderful. He took a deep breath, inhaling her essence as