Chapter 2

She thought he was the devil, but she was wrong; he was something else.

Abel Solomon stood back, watching the evil man fall to the floor, bleeding all over his boots. Abel sighed deeply at the man, knowing this person was pure evil even though he had never met him. It wasn’t the first time he saw someone die at his boots. Back in the Great War, he had killed many men with the blade in his hand. He often feared the blade wasn’t made of steel but of the blood it had taken over the years.

                He looked at the deep red on the steel, frowning at it. He had hoped he would have died in those far-off lands, not wanting to be at the hands of death anymore, and for a moment, he lay behind enemy lines, slowly fading from life.

                He didn’t die there.

                Instead, he became the hands of justice to the wicked ones in this world. It just happened that pure justice was close to the orders he was given back in the war. He sent the dead to face God, at least, he hoped. While in the war, he killed men for a cause he didn’t know; all he cared about was the fight.

                He was a wicked man once, but things have changed.

                The blood sung to him on the blade, a true justice for a wicked man in a sinful world. He looked past the blade to see the blood touching his boots. He would have to clean them later. Blood was so hard to clean off, and Abel would know. The red had stained his soul.

                He kneeled to the dying man. A man he had never met until this moment. He hadn’t met any of the dead men in this cabin. The order came down from up high to remove these wicked souls from the world so they could be judged and sent to the pits. He reached out, cleaning off the knife with the dying man’s shirt.

                The man grunted in pain, his soul fleeing from his body, and Abel was sure he was thrilled to have some true peace in his world. He stood up with the cold winds of the mountains, rushing to gasp at the sight of the horror around him. He glanced at the open door, seeing nothing but the night beyond it, and then to the closed door to the other room.

                Abel walked over, not caring about the blood under his boots. He opens the door, knowing what he will find in the room. The young woman, somewhere around the age of sixteen or seventeen, was tied up and gagged against the wall. She was still wearing her clothes, which was a good sign, but her lovely green eyes were filled with terror. The gunshots didn’t help keep her calm, and the sight of Abel wasn’t going to help either.

                He stood there for a moment, towering over her. She wore pants, a shirt, a thick jacket, and all of it screamed she came from wealth. She knew only money and the false power it brought to those who carried it around all their lives, but a bullet killed the rich the same way it killed the poor.

                Death came for them all, but tonight, it wasn’t coming for her as Abel walked to her. She tried to crawl away from him, but her hands were tied above her head. The ropes were tight, not enough to cut the blood off, but enough to cause rope burns.

                He got closer to her, and she cried something at him. Tears were rolling down her pale face, and Abel was a bit taken by her hair. In a world where magic was dying, it shouldn’t have been such a shock to see one half of her hair dyed bright red and the other half a natural raven hue, but it had been a while since Abel had seen such things.

                The youth of the world seemed to love to change things, mostly to shock the old. Abel guessed it was nothing new. He was sure if he stepped back in time, he would find the youth always pushing against the lines of the old.

                It was nothing new.

                She kept trying to get away from him but stopped moving when she saw the knife in his hand. Her eyes went wide with pure fright, but he wasn’t here to take her life. He was here to save her from Hell outside the door. She watched the knife as he took another step closer.

                He had to remind himself to be soft even if it was against his nature when he wasn’t home. He was a hard man who had seen too much death to know the glee of life. And yet, his home was a place that held a heavenly joy like no other.

                Abel still had a hard time believing he had a home to return to after all his life's sins, but God was good. He could be cruel, but the Lord could always be kind. He might bring righteous anger on the evil in men’s hearts, but He could also bless those wicked who turned from their old ways into His glory.

                Abel was trying his best to be a good man. He was trying to pay back all the sins of his life. The women and children he killed during the war. The evil he had done over there in those bloody lands. He hoped the blood would stay there, but it followed him home.

                He reached out, taking the girl's thin arms and making her wince from the touch, or was it the fear? He wasn’t sure. The knife shot out with her screaming from the flash of steel in the moonlight. The blade cut the ropes with the same ease as it cut the air between them.