Hi everyone! Welcome to Tuesday Tales!
We are back with Ezekiel Hallow in Featherweight (Hallow Brothers 6). This week’s word prompt is “gray”.
**Warning - There is adult situations and adult language.**
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“Who’s there?” a deep voice boomed out of nowhere.
Dakota instinctively glanced up at the ceiling seeing nothing by the charcoal gray that surrounded her caused by the dim light of the candles. She rolled her eyes at herself. Like God was questioning her location. She was pretty sure he knew, if he cared at all.
Her gaze fell to a doorway where the shadow of a thin figure in robes stood holding what looked like a kerosene camping lantern. Her heart leapt in her throat. She wanted to scream for Ezekiel but it wouldn’t come.
An arm lifted the lantern to illuminate a gaunt yet very human face wearing thick rimmed glasses. Dakota let go a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She caught it again when she noticed the sword he held in his other hand. Where a priest got a medieval looking sword was beyond her but he had it and it was pointed at her.
“Who are you?” he demanded as he brandished the weapon.
She raised her hands over her head in surrender. “My name is Dakota. I just came here to pray.”
She heard the priest huff. “As much as I should encourage that, you might want to leave. This isn’t a safe place.”
“And that would be why, father?”
“A day or two ago, a rich looking man arrived and visited the jewelry store down the street. He had a literal gang with him. Before the sun rose the next day, he owned it but was nowhere to be found. We hadn’t seen hide nor hair out of good Mister Sullivan who owned it either. The sign that hung over the door for the last fifty years was smashed to bits and a paper one announcing the new owner was taped in the glass window. By sunfall, the new owner’s men took to the streets and they…”
The priest's voice faltered then disappeared. His last words were filled with an emotion that Dakota couldn’t place. It might have been fear. It could have been sorrow. Maybe it was a mixture of both. She couldn’t be sure.
“They what, Father?” she pried.
“There was murder. I suspect they killed Mister Sullivan too. Three came into my church and attacked my deacon. They didn’t know I was here watching. They made it look like a random life taken by violence but…”
Dakota slowly rose to her feet, her hands still over her head. “The men. They bit into your deacon’s neck. They drank from him like vampires would.”