The Black Plague. He wouldn’t have called it wonderful, but Mychael thought there was something great and powerful about the curse he watched spreading from town to town.
Of course, Mychael hadn’t been infected, and probably never would be. The type of Magyc he had hold of stopped issues like that. It also stopped the problem of aging.
But no-one knew that, and that fact gave the man great pleasure. He would smirk as the pretty young women in the cities would flirt with him so tenderly, batting their shining eyelids as though they thought they were able to be an attraction to him. Then he would take them away into private and- Mychael’s smile widened whenever he thought of this part- he would cut out their loving, beating hearts before the girls even realised what was happening.
It was necessary though. Some people worshipped gods, others believed in the ‘good will of man’ prevailing, but Mychael knew that it was all false. There was only one ruler that made itself great, one that was greater than anything else that could possibly be; and that was the demanding flame of Black Magyc.
But there was a downside to Mychael’s Magyc. He might have become a tad too greedy; he’d heard that there had been rumours about the ‘man in the night-black cloak’; Mychael imagined that some people saw him as a creature of the night, sinking his teeth into the clean necks of young women. The truth of it was that society was becoming more aware of Mychael’s involvement in the sometime kidnapping and killings, and he needed to get away. Cities were no use for criminal recluses, but a small town at the edge of rural society would be a useful place to hide until the hype died down.
Standing on the entrance of the village, Mychael watched as the little, insignificant people rushed by. It wasn’t an extraordinary community, in fact, but it held enough charm to be unassuming, and its multi-faceted neighbourhood offered many little places where Mychael could watch yet not be seen himself.
However, Mychael was not convinced. There was nothing gleaming in the place. Was it really the best that he could choose?
But then he saw her. The rush of sunlight that blurred past, long blonde hair splashing out behind her as she ran, innocent fear breaking her features.
She was not beautiful and, although Mychael did not find any pleasure in loving anyway, in fact, the girl was quite plain. It was the unadorned clothing she wore that caught his eye; the need of money obvious, and her background as clear as day. That girl, now lost in the crowd, having been swept along by the morning rush, was exactly what Mychael needed.
Mychael smirked to himself.
Perhaps the relocation wasn’t such a dreadful flaw in all his plans after all.