Angels Can't Die

By Ashwath Narayanan All Rights Reserved ©

Fantasy / Adventure

Chapter 6

The priest was Akan. He had been born Akan, and was deeply superstitious. The idea of Odomankoma appealed to him.

The idea that there was a great inventor up there was something that made sense. The idea of someone pulling their strings, was something that was more believable. And so, from his early childhood, Brother Nana Kanu had wholeheartedly devoted himself to the faith.

As it so happened, Brother Kanu was the first of the skeptics to leave while the king was speaking. He felt the king was foolish for enforcing the religion on the people, and that the people would just revolt in opposition to this imposition.

His move was not unnoticed. Hidden from the eyes of all, the assassin watched him leave.

Brother Kanu walked down down the gravel streets of Ashanti towards is church.

Almost everyone was still near the palace, and so the silence would help him think.

Till lately, he had been worrying a lot about death. Now 53 years of age, he guessed he had around a couple of years left in him.

The priest had been worrying about death for quite a while now. He enjoyed the luxury of life, and he didn't want to go. The priest wondered how he would go, where would he go? Was there any way to survive?

After a while, in the deathly silence of the church, the priest arose from the shadows to set home.

Little did he notice that he was being followed. Unnoticed by him, the assassin followed him to his inn. Hers was the room above his, and it would be time to finish the task she set forth for.

The priest walked inside his room, and went to his cot. He was about to lay down, when he heard the glass window crack open. shards of glass fell inside the room.

There was someone outside. The priest walked up to the window, trying not to step on the jarring glass that was all over the floor. He looked out, and saw a rope hanging.

He took a few steps behind in shock.

“Aargh. Damn it, I forgot about the glass” he muttered as he clutched his foot in pain.

He walked up to the table, to drink a glass of water, when he noticed something in the water.

It was slightly murky in texture. He sniffed at it, slightly vary. Was someone trying to poison him?

He went down to the bed, suddenly very scared. He should inform someone, but who was there? Everyone was at the palace, listening to that dratted king lecture on about Satan.

It was almost evening, and the last rays of light were going out, as the priest lay down to go to bed.

Little did he know that death was soon to come to him. The very thing he feared was almost here, and he was going to leave.

The assassin crept in, silently. She made sure not to step on the glass. She took out her dagger, and walked up to bed. She wanted to see his face, his expressions as she slit his throat. She wanted to feel his fear, she wanted to see how he met death.

Much to her surprise, he was ready for her, but he wasn't ready to experience death.

She sat him up against the wall, the dagger in one hand.

“Is your Odomankoma going to save you now?” She mocked.

“Please, please” He grovelled, begging her to release him. But she was adamant, she couldn't feel pity now. She couldn't afford to lose out now. She had to complete this task.

“Say hello to the reaper from me.” She said, and quietly slit his throat. His eyes went wide, as blood gushed out of the opening.

She waited for the life to pass out of him, as she sat down as far away from him. She felt exhilarated, accomplished. The high priest would be pleased with her.

Brother Kanu was feeling terrified, he could feel the void closing in on him. His time was up. Memories flashed through his eyes, the first time he had picked up the holy book. He remembered his mother, his father. They were all long dead now. He took in some air one last time, and closed his eyes. In that one split second, he saw the reaper. Scythe in hand, ready to take his soul.

The assassin watched as he closed his eyes, the life leaving the priests body. Her task was complete. She bent across his body, and retrieved her dagger which was on the floor. She had some more work to do now.

She took her dagger in one hand and walked up to the wall opposite to the cot. There was blood on the dagger, and that was what she was going to use to draw the pentacle on the wall. It wasn't in her instructions, but she felt that it would be better to do so.

She scraped out a pentacle on the wall. The wall was quite soft, so it was pretty easy. Now all she had to do was fill the spaces with blood, or make them red to make the scene more gruesome.

Everyone knew that Brother Kanu had been skeptical of the king, so this would send across a sure message to other skeptics out there. Do not mess with Satan.

She took up a cloth, tied it around her hand and rubbed it across the dagger. Blood smeared onto the cloth, and she rubbed it against the pentacle shape on the wall. The red in it symbolized Satan. Her task was complete.

She sat down, she wondered whether or not to write anything. She soon decided to do it.

Thïš íŠ whÅŁ hÃÞþènŠ.

Her scrawl wasn't so good, but the shew as new to this. She would have preferred to write in the ancient Satanic language, but unfortunately she didn't know it. She had a lot to learn.

The assassin crept towards the window. It was time to leave, the satanists were meeting in a while, and it was her time to be there. She took of her mask, letting her face feel some fresh air. She had to go away from here before someone started suspecting things. She had to leave this inn at once.

She went to her room, by the rope she had used to get in. She took her stuff, covered her face again, and left. She didn't look back. She wondered how this murder was going to be taken, but she didn't want to find. She walked out onto the street. It was time.

She had defied everything her father had set on her. She was finally free, or well almost free. Her father was a slave of the king’s father. Naturally, she had been forced into slavery as well. But there had been a choice, an actual choice. And he had given her away. He had sold her, his only daughter.

He had sold her into slavery, so that he himself escaped it. His own daughter.

All because he had to pursue his stupid faith.

And today, she had killed him. Her own father, the person who had bound her. She was finally free.

Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us:

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered book publisher, offering an online community for talented authors and book lovers. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books you love the most based on crowd wisdom.