The seventh son of the seventh son, David commanded respect from birth. His prowess on the battlegrounds and his wisdom settling local disputes added to his power and his wealth. False humility was his only weakness and one his enemies used in their plans to destroy him.
Following her was easy. Her bright red hair bundled on top of her head, the layers of jewelry on her wrists, and her walk–which would distract any living, breathing straight man–were unmistakable in the crowded city streets. He took three photos when she reached the building.
Since childhood, three locked doors appeared in Dean's dreams. The doors were identical, in a nondescript hallway, in an anonymous building. He dreams didn't expose what was behind the doors or why they were so important.
The pot bubbled over, and broth spilled down the sides of the stove onto the floor. The liquid burned the metal and stone with a hiss and whiffs of smoke. The mistress looked at her apprentice and clapped. “It’s the perfect mix.”
More than half the revelers filling the large downtown square were drunk, using alcohol to enhance the festive mood and ward off the chill. Just before midnight, the crowd counted down in unison: 10-9-8. When they reached one, the square exploded.