Dominion
Melody Manful
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Find the author on twitter @melodymanful and Goodreads.
For more information, glossary, original music and contact, visit the author’s website.
www.melodymanful.com
Facebook page: Melody Manful Author
Illustrations by Daniel Kordek (front cover and medallion) and Andrey Kaliuzhny (back cover: rose)
Copyright © 2012 – 2013 Melody Manful
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 0615739458
ISBN-13: 978-0-615-73945-8
CONTENTS
STATE OF GRACE 1
MY HALLELUJAH 8
TURNING POINT 15
MY REIGN 18
SUPER-MAN 25
HERO VS. VILLAIN 32
MY REALITY 42
DEFYING GRAVITY 48
INNOCENCE 56
AVALANCHE 66
PARANORMAL STRANGER 72
WARNING BELLS 79
LAIR, LAIR 85
RAPUNZEL, RAPUNZEL 89
HELL ON WHEELS 94
CHASING DAWN 98
HOW YOU LEARN TO LIVE ALONE 101
BEST FRIENDS FORNEVER 108
CAROUSEL 113
DARK KNIGHT 119
FLIPPED 123
RING OF FIRE 129
HAPPINESS 136
RECKONING 141
LA BELLA E LA BESTIA 146
THE STRUGGLE 155
SHADOW BOXING 160
BLOODLUST 169
UPSIDE DOWN 174
DARK VEIL 181
TURNING POINT 186
DAMAGED 192
BROKEN STRINGS 195
ACHILLES’ HEEL 201
KRYPTONITE 210
BRIDGES AND WALLS 216
THE PRESTIGE 221
OUR FAIRYTALE 228
BOY MEETS GIRL 232
TOWARDS EVER-AFTER 239
CARPE DIEM 245
TITANIC 247
DESIRE 250
BEAUTIFUL LAIR 255
BROKEN ANGEL 260
ALMOST PARADISE 269
WHITE SATIN 276
IMMORTALITY 281
HEAVEN CAN WAIT 288
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 292
STATE OF GRACE
Tristan
“A moment, that’s all it takes to live.
A hope, that’s all it takes to believe.
A dream, that’s all it takes to wish.
A blink, that’s all it takes to lose it all.”
Hey, have you two seen a ghost around here?” Just like that, the stoners I was talking to were staring at me as if I’d lost my damn mind.
The stoners each held a joint in one hand and a beer in the other, and looked to be about nineteen. I wasn’t even sure they could see me because their eyes were bleary and dull, and it seemed as though they were finding it hard to keep them open.
They looked so very still after a while that I found myself looking for a sign of some sort to assure myself they were still breathing. The first boy obviously was, because he slowly blew a puff of smoke into the air. His friend had a small smile on his lips, and was slowly blinking his bloodshot eyes, so I now was certain he, too, was alive.
Since they weren’t responding, I answered my own question. “No?” I shook my head. “All right, then. I’ll just look over there.” I pointed to a mausoleum on the right, and without waiting for an answer made my way over to it.
I’d barely taken three steps when one of the stoners said, “What a creep.” Then they started laughing. I guess they weren’t hummed enough to let my question go unanswered after all.
“Yeah, man. What a freak.” Thank you very much, drunk teenagers, for calling me a freak when you two are in a cemetery in the middle of the night drinking and smoking away your future!
I couldn’t blame them though, because I felt like a freak. Here I was in a cemetery looking for a ghost because, as it happened, I had just lost one.
Now, how do I even go about calling a ghost?
“Um, hello Mr…” I didn’t know his name. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help.”
Stopping in front of the mausoleum, I turned to take in my surroundings, not that there was much to see other than crumbling gravestones.
“He-e-e-ere, Ghosty-ghosty-ghosty! Here, Ghosty.” Yep, I had lost my goddamn mind.
I should be sleeping.
Technically speaking, I can’t sleep. My species—is that the right word?—doesn’t need sleep. All the same, it felt like I should be sleeping. I should be tucked into a bed, dreaming, instead of where I was: a musty graveyard, creeping around at two in the morning.
Except I wasn’t here at two in the morning because I was some kind of a nutcase, though I might very well qualify as a nutcase in many ways. No, I was here because I was trying to make sure the soul that had died in my arms two minutes ago was moving on and not joining the ‘We Have Unfinished Business’ club. You’d think after I’d tried to save the man’s life he’d consider making my job a little easier, but instead here I was, stalking him in a scary cemetery in Australia. Australia, for God’s sake.
“Mr. Ghost, are you out here?” I called out again. “Hello!”
I needed a new job, because this one sucked.
“What is he doing?” one of the stoners asked, and I turned my attention back to them. I had almost forgotten they were there.
The one in the hooded jacket nodded before answering, “I don’t know man. Let’s get out of here. He could be a serial killer or something.”
A serial killer? Now I felt insulted. The boys were fumbling about for their beers, anxious to be off; once they had the bottles in hand, they hurried away, as if they’d seen a ghost. If only they had.
“It was nice meeting you!” I shouted after them. At the sound of my voice, the boys sped up from a drunken shamble to a run.
Great! There went my company.
“Hello!” I shouted into the cold air once more. “Is anyone out here?” Silence. It was like talking to a bunch of dead people. Ha! That almost got a laugh out of me, and I likely would have laughed if it weren’t that laughing might confirm that I was a creep. Chasing down a ghost in the dead of night to keep him from setting off on an unholy rampage? Not as much fun as you’d think. The life I was living was ridiculous, like one big sitcom. Sometimes I could almost hear the audience in the background booing and laughing.
My people’s way of life is less a way of life than a compulsion. Too damn bad it’s a ‘good people’ compulsion and not a ‘normal people’ compulsion. I’d pretty much have gone for anything but the ‘good people’ one.
My people, the people of the realm of Lumens, are kind and loving by nature, the very embodiments of capital G capital P Good People. We are guardian angels, and we guide our assigned humans, help our neighbors, and at the end of the day, sing Kumbaya around the campfire.
Fine. The song part isn’t true, not yet. There aren’t even really any campfires, but it’s only a matter of time. There are bound to be fires and cheerful sing-alongs. Bound to be. And the song? Sure to be Kumbaya. Bet on it.
“Hello!” I called again, stepping away from the mausoleum and going deeper into the graveyard. “I know you’re scared, but I am here to help you.” Maybe I’ll have to knock you in the head and drag you to the Underworld myself, I thought, but there was no need to tell him that.
I waited to hear a sound, anything, but the place was as silent as, well, the grave. I don’t need night vision goggles to see in the darkness, so I knew when the ghost didn’t answer me that he was hiding or gone, not merely los
t in the shadows. In any case, I’d have seen the Grim Reaper lurking about finishing up her bookkeeping if the spirit had decided to move on. Since she wasn’t around and Mr. Australian Ghost was nowhere to be seen, I knew I’d lost him.
Which was great, effing great! I’d lost a ghost in a freaking graveyard. This wasn’t the real problem, though; the real problem was how I was going to find him. I needed to catch up to him before he got confused and accidentally hurt someone, which meant I had to forget about going home for the time being and chase his ghostly butt down.
I had just about made up my mind to go back to the road where he’d had the accident that had taken his life when I heard a movement behind me. I managed to turn around just in time to be on the receiving end of a light pole smashing into my head.
I doubled over, hitting the ground with a thud.
Son of a…
“Hey!” I had to roll quickly unto my back to escape getting the light pole driven through my chest. “I’m not—” I saw the pole coming down toward my chest again, and rolled yet again to avoid it. A crater nearly a foot deep had been created in the damp earth by the pole’s impact right where I had been but a moment before. A second’s hesitation and the light pole would have caved in my chest and pierced my heart.
I prefer my chest uncaved, thank you.
I could see the ghost was determined, and that he likely didn’t know his own strength. The cold look in his eyes told me that wasn’t going to stop him from trying to kill me. Another dodge to avoid the pole, and I was scrambling to my feet.
“Look, I just want—” He swung the pole again, and this time, rather than duck, I disappeared. I rematerialized behind him.
The ghost turned around in shock when I did this, and let the pole fall to the ground from his slack fingers. “How…” he muttered. I was stupid enough to take a step toward him at this point, and the moment I did, he took off running.
Great! Just what I needed: exercise! This wasn’t even my job. Chasing lost souls was the Grim Reaper’s job, but if I let this one escape it might take the Grim Reaper a couple of days to find him, a couple of days in which he would wander the countryside confused and alone and very, very dangerous. He might unwittingly hurt someone, and because I couldn’t bear to let that happen, this was my problem.
Damn it! “Hey! Wait up!” I took off after him, screaming for him to stop, but it was no use. I could have easily used my ability as an angel to teleport to catch up to him immediately, but I didn’t want him getting any more confused and panicky than he already was.
“Do you think… think you could… maybe slow down?” I was struggling to catch my breath. It was unbelievable how powerful humans got when they died. It was as though when they died their bodies immediately got an automatic dose of creepy ghost powers. This particular ghost I was chasing appeared to be in training as an Olympic sprinter.
“Hey…” A full-grown tree went flying past my head. “Really?” I shouted, as he pulled another tree from the ground, seemingly without effort, and hurled it toward me. Again, I dodged, but the ghost obviously didn’t care much for me, because a second later a gravestone came flying at me out of the darkness.
This one I saw a second too late. The stone hit me hard on the right side of my head and knocked me savagely to the ground. “That hurt!” A lot.
I got up and rushed after him yet again, dodging gravestone after gravestone. Suddenly I caught my foot on a fallen granite marker and stumbled, sprawling in the damp grass. I decided to draw the line on running.
I snapped my fingers, and in an instant I was standing in front of the ghost. He stopped in his tracks when he saw me and turned around wildly, only to find me already there, behind him.
“What…?” He was confused. By the look of him he was in his late thirties. He had dark grey hair and blue eyes, and wore a football jersey over a pair of grey trousers. I could sense his fear, the dawning realization that his whole world had changed.
I tried to take his hand, but he pushed me away. “Look, I’m not here to hurt you. I want to help,” I told him.
He didn’t look convinced. As a matter of fact, I was pretty sure he’d take off running again if I so much as blinked. “I just want to help you find the light.”
That didn’t sound cheesy at all.
“I mean, help you move on.”
“What are you?” He asked, his eyes wide. “Hey, I have children. I have money. If you let me go, I’ll pay you.” Great, now he thought I was a robber. “Please, don’t hurt me!”
“No. No, I’m not—” The words were barely out of my mouth when the man started shaking. It broke my heart to see souls like him. To see how much they wanted to live, and to know they weren’t going to.
Knowing talking wasn’t going to make clear to him his current situation, I decided to show him instead. It was wrong, what I was about to do, against our laws, but I wanted to help this desperately frightened man in front of me, so, slowly, I made my huge white wings appear.
The man gasped, and his eyes grew even wider. I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. He took a trembling step back. The graveyard was now noon-bright, my white wings casting light into every corner.
Suddenly, the man’s fear deepened into awe. “Angel,” he whispered to himself. I gave him time to get over it. “God?” he then asked. Well, God was better than serial killer.
I shook my head, “No. I’m a friend.” This time when I reached out to take his hands, he let me.
“Am I … dead?” I hated to be the one to answer that question.
Nodding, I gave him a reassuring smile, “Your body is, yes.” In truth I had no idea what became of souls when the Grim Reaper took them away, but since I didn’t know any better, I saw no sin in giving this man a modicum of hope. “You need to return to your body, and wait there until someone comes to get you,” I told him.
He seemed to understand what I was saying. After a second he nodded, and I let go of his hand.
“It’s all right, Tristan, you can go, I’ve got it from here” said a striking young blonde woman in a red sequined dress standing near the cemetery gate. “I’ve got this.” The Grim Reaper herself.
Sure, now she shows up. After I’ve gotten served by an old man!
“Are you sure, D? I’m happy to stay, you know, until the end.”
She snapped her fingers, and her red dress became filmy and inky black. “It never ends,” she said, with a brief shake of her head and a sigh. “It never ends.” She reached out her hand to the ghost, and he shuffled toward her, willingly.
D scribbled something on the form on her clipboard, and with a quick wave, she disappeared, together with the ghost.
I could tell D hated being the Grim Reaper. When I asked her how she’d ended up with the job, all she’d ever said was, “I was simply at the right place at the wrong time.”
If that was code for “mind your own goddamn business” I haven’t cracked it, because so far I’ve asked her the same question twenty or thirty times.
Moments after they disappeared, I retracted my wings. I was about to congratulate myself for a job well done when a voice echoed in my head.
Tristan, can you come to the palace?
The voice belonged to King Daligo, the king of the realm of Grands.
Oh, no. Did they know I’d let my wings show already?
For a second I didn’t want to answer him, but it was a crime not to heed a royal summons. It wasn’t like a phone call I could pretend not to have received; this was a direct summons from the king, and I was forced to answer it.
As you wish, Your Majesty.
MY HALLELUJAH
Lights.
The kingdom of Grands needs lights. Lots of them. If not electric lights, then at least a goddamn candle or two, because the whole kingdom is covered in darkness. I knew someone who knew someone who’d be willing to supply the realm with years’ worth of candles, all for the low, low price of advertising their graveyard as the place to go when you wanted
to feed. The angels in Grands fed on the sadness and pain of the world, and a graveyard seemed a perfect place for them to have a buffet; I couldn’t understand why they chose to pass on such a sweet deal.
There’s a lot about Grands that defies understanding.
Located at the mid-point between Hell and Earth, Grands is a domain steeped in gray, bleak darkness, darkness merged with a penetrating cold. Whenever I came here, I shivered with each breath I took.
This dreary grayness was not only cold, it was absolute. The sun didn’t shine in Grands. On a good day you might see a single ray try to make its way through the clouds, but it would disappear so soon that you’d think you’d imagined it.
I could never completely relax when I was in Grands. I was frightened the darkness of the place might swallow me up if I took a wrong turn, and while I sometimes told myself it was the lack of light that made Grands seem so menacing, I knew, deep down, that it was really the people who lived here that left me so unsettled.
While my people are the definition of good, the Grandinians are the definition of bad. Their purpose in life is to be bad. They’re also a breed of guardian angel, but their raison d’etre is to endlessly tempt the human race. They go to Earth to persuade humans to make bad decisions and to seduce them into choosing wrong over right. Free will is a blade honed by the whetstone of temptation, after all.
We Lumenians were created to protect, and the Grandinians, to destroy.
At the moment, I was hovering somewhere on the outskirts of the kingdom, so far above that I could see the entire realm beneath me. The Grandinian Palace looms in the very center of the kingdom, and all around it are huddled densely clustered slums that cling to it like barnacles. Fully half of the kingdom is in ruins. A casual observer could be forgiven for thinking the kingdom had been abandoned centuries ago.
But I knew better.
This blighted place is all the more horrible for knowing that someone has to live here, that many someones are living here. The Grandinians have to experience this chill, terrible place day in and day out. Its sadness has become their everyday reality, and honestly, they don’t deserve it.
Dominion (Re-edition) Page 1