Witch Hunt
weaverofspells
Various newspapers lay scattered across the foot of the bed. They were from different cities all in the past several weeks. But every headline was the same. Murder. Females. All young. Barely out of their adolescence. They appeared to have nothing in common. Nothing to even hint at the possibility of a serial killer. But there was a link -- a connection -- that was hidden from human eye.
Magic. All of the victims were witches. But humans -- being ignorant of such abilities -- never picked up on it. Cain, however, was no mere mortal. His world was filled with the impossible and supernatural. He has always been attracted to murder and the possibility of it. It was a part of his curse and nature. He could smell when it hung low in the air.
He had been tracking this witch hunter for some time. But the movements had been unpredictable. The targets had been too far for Cain to reach. He had to work faster. He could feel another death was imminent.
For a brief moment, the room was lit up with light from the street lamp outside the motel room door. But as Cain passed through it to enter the night, the room was submerged into darkness once more.He did well to avoid most people as he traveled through the streets.
It had not been difficult to locate someone with magical abilities in this town. There were not many options. But he had come across the most likely target quite accidentally. She worked in a diner that he happened to visit the other day. And the smell of death was around her. The witch hunter was coming for her.
He casually slid into a booth at the diner, making sure to sit in the witch's section. Holding the menu up, it appeared that he was reading it; however, his eyes were carefully monitoring the waitress.
