Rose Reborn (Death's Contract Book 1)

by KJ Harlow

  The sun shone weakly, giving as much warmth as it could. I shielded my eyes from the glare as I walked past the abandoned children’s hospital. Police had set up an investigation scene there. Blue and white tape barred every single entrance. The work site next to the hospital stood innocently to the side, the gates bolted shut. How considerate of the Tormented to close the door after themselves.

  I could feel the police look up from their reports and watch me as I walked past. Were any of them there the night that I was shot? Did they see my body before it was reclaimed by Death? Maybe they thought I was responsible for breaking in and vandalizing the place. The guilty person always returned to the scene of the crime, right? I increased my pace slightly, trying not to draw attention to myself. Safe to say that the Tormented weren’t using the abandoned hospital as their hide out anymore.

  The sun began its early descent, bathing the city in its tired light. I always hated how short the days were in winter. Cars started queuing up as the traffic built up for the 5 pm rush back home. People wearing suits jaywalked and jumped on packed trams, desperate to catch the next train home. I walked past them all like a ghost, unnoticed.

  Pretty soon I was back amongst the skyscrapers. I craned my neck up. I was through and through an urban girl. Even though Stan and I were crammed in a tiny studio apartment, they were some of the happiest times of my life. I smiled fondly as the memories flowed through my mind. Now that I was technically dead, living in the city didn’t have as much appeal as it used to.

  I stopped at an intersection, looking up at the signs. I was at the corner of Swanston and Collins Street. I must have walked for close to an hour. What the hell was I doing? While I was taking a trip through memory lane, the Tormented were planning their next move. I berated myself and sat down on a public seat. People streamed by, not paying me any attention. I was here to find out what was tormenting Stan. I imagined pressing my gun into his head and delivering sweet mercy from his torment. I shook my head vigorously to erase the image from my mind.

  I stood up and watched as a tram trundled to a stop a few feet away. On a whim, I jumped on. I abhorred public transport. The carriages stank. The people stank. I would sooner walk 20 minutes than get on a tram. For some reason, I was drawn to this one. Firstly, it was relatively empty. If you timed it right, you could get on a tram where your face isn’t digging into a fat man’s armpit. Why else did I feel the urge to get on? I looked at the map on the wall. Some stupid kid had tagged it, but I could make out the route.

  Of course: this was the Number 1, the tram that went straight to my workplace. I took it a few times when I first moved here for work. I was going back to the Victorian Institute of Forensic Medicine. The tram sighed as it waited at the traffic light outside Flinders Street Station. Hundreds of people crossed the road, jumping up the iconic steps as they scanned the departure board for their line. How many of these people would make it home tonight? How many would find themselves on the wrong end of a magical gun that would turn them into zombies riddled with conflict? I peered through the driver’s windscreen and pushed the red “STOP” button on the rail.

  I got off the tram and watched it slowly turn the corner. Street lights were starting to flicker on. I dug my hands into my pockets and began walking a familiar path back to my workplace. Not before long, I was standing out the front of the Institute again. How long had it been since that day? I looked up at the window to my office. The lights were on but the blinds were shut. I could just make out the silhouettes of some people moving around inside. It looked like I had already been replaced. Oh well. I turned to walk back towards the city. I probably wasn’t going to find anything here anyway.

  I stopped when I saw the alleyway I used to park in. I stared at the spot where I had crashed into Mortimer. This was where I died. The memories were etched deeply in my mind but I felt detached from them. I felt like a spectator watching a crime scene unfold as my brain replayed the events from that night.

  I ran into the alleyway. Maybe my bag was still there. Maybe the cops didn’t find my phone. Maybe my car was still there. The council wouldn’t cough up the money to tow it away, they would just plaster it with notices. Sure enough, my faded blue Toyota Corolla was there. I ran my hands through my hair in dismay as I checked the damage.

  Sure enough there were warning notices were on the windscreen. The wheels were bolted too. It looked like someone had tried to use a crowbar to pop the bolts off but had given up. The windows were smashed in. Shards of glass crunched under my boots as I maneuvered myself through the debris to peer in through the driver’s window. The glove compartment was open and bare. Even the servicing log was gone. I withdrew my head and sighed. Reaching down, I popped the trunk open and strode over to have a look. I was glad to see someone hadn’t stashed a corpse in here. It was as dirty as the day I left it.

  Oh well. Guess I wouldn’t find any clues here. I made my way deeper in the alley. I scrunched up my face, trying to remember the details from the night. Where had I dropped the bag? I looked at the floor for any signs of my panicked escape but there wasn’t anything. I noticed some dumpsters then it came back to me. I had spied on Mortimer and Tor from the corner. After they saw me, I dropped my bag and ran. Was it possible my phone fell out? I hesitated then decided to get down on my hands and knees again. I looked under the bin but saw nothing. Kicking around some soggy cardboard boxes, I didn’t find any clues. I was literally and figuratively at a dead end.

  I squatted as I dusted my hands off. What was that? Acting on instinct, I kept low and scurried to hide behind the dumpster. I had seen something out of the corner of my eye, I was sure of it. I poked my head out as far as I dared, looking beyond where the brick wall turned. My heart was leaping out of my chest as I rested my hand on my gun.

  A shadow loomed on the brick wall, tall and menacing. Someone was coming in. Why would anyone come back here? Were they coming back to pick something up? I cursed silently when I realized I hadn’t inspected underneath the seats. I shrunk back into the wall even further when I saw the shadow holding something. The shadow was fuzzy, but the shape was unmistakable. It was a gun. My blood turned to ice. It was Mortimer. He had come back to finish me off. Maybe he had blended in with the crowd and waited until I was cornered again before making his move.

  The shadow came closer. I drew my weapon now, pointing it at the corner. I couldn’t retreat yet. If I went back now, Death might be waiting for me and I wouldn’t hear the end of it. I had to stay here until I found something, anything on Stan. I aimed my gun and steadied. I had seconds to Soul Step somewhere. Where could I go? My finger hovered over the trigger.

  The shadow extended up the wall as it got closer. What was I dealing with here? Was it Dante himself? Had he come back? My knuckles had turned white. The grip became slippery with sweat. He would appear now at any moment. Suddenly, the shadow stopped advancing. It stood up straight, looking backward. There was a noise: it sounded like two men arguing. No, not again. Not here. I tried to ignore the ringing that had started in my ears.

  Not before long, I saw a man dressed in black track pants and a hoodie. He looked around furtively, then waved another man to come through. They went to the car. The first one opened the back passenger door while the second stood by and watched nervously. I watched as he rummaged under the driver’s seat. He pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with butcher’s string. Smiling triumphantly, he slammed the door shut and began walking quickly out of the alley. His young sidekick, still looking nervous slinked after him.

  I waited for five minutes before I came out from my hiding place. That was way too close. I was an idiot for coming back. I had to leave, pronto. I holstered my weapon and started making my way out.

  “Rose.”

  In one fluid motion, I drew my weapon and spun around, pointing it at Tor. He was looking at me sternly. I dropped my gun to my side.

  “What the hell are you doing behind me? I could have ended you!” I yelled.

>   “You shouldn’t have come out here by yourself,” he said. His usually blue eyes were as dark as obsidian in the low light of the alleyway.

  “Why did you follow me? You’re not my babysitter!” I continued, turning red in the face. He didn’t respond to this. His face changed. I couldn’t read his expression. Was he concerned about me?

  “I’m going to stay with you until you find out more information about Stan,” he declared. Walter must have sent him to keep an eye on me. I clenched my jaw and looked up at his chiseled jawline.

  “I don’t need you here, retreat now.” Without thinking, I reached forward into his jacket for his gun. His right arm came down, grabbing hold of my wrist. With his left arm, he drew me into his body. It was soft and hard at the same time. I breathed in his scent. For a split second, I thought of surrendering to him right then and there, but I was better than that. I twisted free from his clutches and forcefully pushed at his chest to separate us. He quickly regained his balance and considered me with his impenetrable eyes.

  “Are you going to retreat or not?” I asked impatiently. He shook his head once. He was as protective as Stan was. I threw my hands in the air in defeat.

  “Fine.” If he wasn’t going to go, I would have to get rid of him. I pictured my favorite place in the city and Soul Stepped out of the alley way, leaving Tor behind me.

  I sat on the lawn outside the State Library. The tram drivers cheerfully rang their bells as they signaled their stop, which happened to be in front of me. A gelato cart was parked in the corner, its owner carving out ice cream for smiling children. Just for a moment, I wanted to forget about Deliverers, Tormented and Conflicted. I wanted to be normal. I fell back, letting my arms flop open. The sky was dark and starless. The episode with Tor a moment ago had rattled me. I wished he would stop confusing my feelings like that. Yes, Stan had now joined the dark side, but I was still loyal to him.

  I covered my face with my hands and let out a quiet moan of frustration. Where did I go from here? I just wanted to go home, roll myself up in my favorite blanket and watch Netflix again. I sat up abruptly. That was it! I could go back to our apartment. Why didn’t I think of that earlier? I stood up and pushed my hands into my back, groaning as I stretched. I took off my glasses and gently rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. It definitely was more tiring being in a flesh and blood body than being in spirit.

  I opened my eyes and someone was holding a strawberry ice cream in front of me. Tor had a serious expression on his face as if my accepting his dessert was life or death.

  “Where did you get the money to buy that?” I hissed.

  “I told him that my girlfriend was depressed,” Tor explained, looking over to the gelato salesman. He waved and smiled at me.

  “You can’t just go around lying to people!” I exclaimed, wringing my hands. The ice cream was beginning to melt over his fingers. Why was it so frustrating talking to this guy? I snatched the ice cream from the tall Norwegian while glaring at him.

  “Come on,” I said, jumping off the lawn onto the pavement. It looked like I couldn’t shake him. Guess he would have to come along. I wolfed down the ice cream. It was actually really good to eat something again. I forgot how much I missed food. Tor walked to my right and slightly behind me. I had to admit, I felt safer having him around here. The skyscrapers began to thin as we got further and further out from the city. A familiar apartment complex came into view.

  It was all Stan and I could afford at the time. It was on the city fringes, but it was metropolitan enough for me. I could see the bathroom windows as we approached. I patted my pockets then realized my problem. Damn, no keys. How was I going to get in now? A woman was leaving the apartment. I broke out into a jog and managed the grab the door before it closed. I waved impatiently at Tor. OK. That was the first step. Now what?

  We stood around awkwardly as people came down the lifts and looked at us suspiciously. We must have looked dangerous. I pulled my jacket around me again sub-consciously. Hopefully no one called the police on us. While I fretted, Tor had made his way to the lift. It dinged and the doors slid open. Nonchalantly, he walked past a couple who were coming out.

  “Oh damn, forgot my card. Hey, do you mind?” He said, talking to the couple. They span around and looked Tor up and down. Without saying a word, one of them reached in and touched the scanner with his card. “Thank you,” Tor said, smiling politely as they walked away. He reverted to his serious expression as soon as they left.

  “Come on.” He said, beckoning me to come forward. My jaw was wide open. I was stunned at what I had just witnessed. How did he do that so casually?

  “Rose,” Tor said with a hint of impatience. I walked over to him and we entered the lift. I hit the number ‘5’ and stepped back to the middle. I stared at my feet for the next ten seconds and hurried out as soon as the doors opened. Tor followed silently behind.

  “Which one is yours?” Tor said in a low voice. I started walking through the hall. My steps slowed as soon as we reached the end. The light in the ceiling outside our door was flickering. We had complained to the land lord that this was happening the day we moved in. He probably saw that we hadn’t paid our rent for a few months and decided that it wasn’t worth responding to our complaints.

  I looked at the number ’50’ on the door. Someone had peeled the ‘1’ off the end of it. I sighed. I put my hand on the knob and turned. It was locked. Just then I heard some shuffling inside. I stepped back and pulled out my gun as Tor did the same. We pressed ourselves to the wall either side of the door. The shuffling seemed to get louder. I heard a tinkling sound as something fell to the ground and shattered.

  Tor and I exchanged glances. I nodded at him. He moved to the front of the door and got into position. I counted down with my fingers.

  “3… 2… 1…” I mouthed. Tor slammed his boot into the door, splintering it at the hinges. It swung open. We rushed in and stopped. There was a dozen Conflicted in the room. They had destroyed nearly everything that wasn’t bolted down. The laptop that we watched Netflix on had been smashed. Every drawer had been raided. They stared at us, their weapons reflecting the flickering light in the hallway.

  “Get the hell out,” I said, my voice trembling with fury as I opened fire.

  Twenty-Two

  Ten seconds: that’s how long it took to fill my room with the black ash of the Conflicted. I bounded over to the remaining one and rammed my gun into his neck. “Die,” I whispered, blowing his brains out. He stumbled back and toppled over the balcony, plunging silently until it cracked into the concrete with a sickening thud five stories down.

  I was breathing heavily through clenched teeth. How dare Dante do this. He didn’t only take my boyfriend away, he also destroyed our studio apartment inside out. The adrenaline was leaving my body and I suddenly felt the tiredness kick in. I fumbled with my gun as I holstered it. Shuffling over to my bed, my eyes swept over the gaping holes that screamed out from the mattress. I flopped down and stared at the ceiling.

  It looked like a bomb had gone off in my room. The Conflicted had left nothing untouched in their crazed destruction job. Feathers were wafting around peacefully through the air, unaware of the carnage that had been wreaked only moments ago. Tor was leaning against the wall casually looking at me. A feather had landed on his shoulder. He turned his head and blew it off before looking back at me.

  “We have to leave soon. People will have heard all the noise and called the police,” he said softly. We heard shuffling in the rooms next to ours. Doors opened and slammed shut before I heard footsteps running down the hall. The remains of my laptop sizzled and popped, giving off an odor of burnt plastic. All records would have been destroyed. The motherboard must have been fried. I curled up into the fetal position on my left side, turning away from Tor.

  “I don’t care. I’m not the villain.” I said glumly. A frigid breeze blew in through the balcony as I stared out into the night. The Conflicted corpse would have disintegrated by
now. I wonder if anyone saw it before it did. I heard Tor’s heavy footfalls plodding around the room. He was kicking things around, opening my closet to look inside closing it again.

  “Don’t bother. There’s nowhere to hide anything in here.” I said sullenly. This was turning out to be a stupid idea. Maybe Stan would be a Tormented forever. We would lock horns, he would try and Cease us every time and there would be nothing we could do. We would just have to run away each time.

  My bed suddenly caved in as Tor sat behind me. The mattress was crappy to begin with. Now that it was destroyed, it was barely holding itself together. I could feel his eyes on my back. I’d never had anyone else in this room beside Stan. Now I had an ex-member of the Norwegian army sitting with me on my bed. Then again, I’d never been dead before either. My eyes began to well up when I realized the truth of why I wanted to find out what was tormenting Stan: I wanted to be the one to Cease him. I knew none of it was my fault, but I felt responsible for him. If I had listened to him more, gotten him to open up to me and made him comfortable that he could tell me anything, maybe I wouldn’t be dead and he wouldn’t be either. A tear escaped my right eye and rolled over the bridge of my nose.

  “Rose–”

  “Why did you come into my room that time and comfort me?”

  I could almost hear the cogs cranking in his brain as he considered his answer. The bed creaked as he shifted his weight. He lay down next to me, staring up the ceiling. A few errant feathers were buffeted by the night breeze, blowing across his line of vision. He was close to me. I could feel the heat emanating off his battle-hardened body onto my back. After a long silence, he spoke.

  “You were having a bad dream,” he said plainly. It had felt so real. I could feel the flecks of blood spattered on my face, the terror of the woman trying to protect me and the anger of the gunman that covered my world in red. What did it all mean? The nightmare, coupled with Stan being turned into a Tormented was too much. I closed my eyes as tears flowed silently into the mattress. All I wanted was everything to be OK again, even if it was just for a moment.