The Price of Life

by T. M. Nienaber

  “I’m not the fool you seem to think I am, Lucian, don’t underestimate me.” Kristopher lowered the gun.

  “Then stop acting like a fool.” Lucian pulled out his knife again and cleaned the blade off on what was left clean of the dead boy’s shirt. He raised it above his head, both hands on the hilt, and smiled at Kristopher before arching the blade down into his own stomach. He laid himself straight out on the ground as his blood pooled around him, but something about Lucian made the body seem more art than human. The boy next to him looked dead, but Lucian, even though he’d lost as much blood, looked more like a picture.

  Kristopher was transfixed, he gazed at Lucian’s body and wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel horror, amazement, or wonder. When people die they usually have this feeling of death that comes over their bodies once the life is gone. They look like pictures of themselves, you know who it is, but they’re not quite all there, and it’s the permanence of knowing they’re gone forever that makes it so depressing. That’s not how Lucian looked at all. He looked very alive. There wasn’t even a feeling that he was sleeping, it was like he’d been frozen. Kristopher had to suppress an urge to touch, he wanted to call it a corpse, but that didn’t seem to be the right word. He leaned down, his hand getting close to Lucian’s face, he just wanted to see if it still felt human. He pulled back quickly, not sure how long Lucian had been dead and not wanting to be caught doing something he wasn’t sure why he wanted to do in the first place.

  Kristopher perched himself on the bleachers closest to Lucian and watched. He’d mostly forgotten why he was there, the suspended state of death was mesmerizing. If people saw this it was no wonder they were willing to kill to get into the religion. He’d have the nation ready to do anything to get a chance at that kind of beauty and tranquility and --

  Lucian started to move. At first it was just small parts in small movements, then large, agonizing spasms. It was the opposite of everything Lucian had been before. Kristopher forced himself to look away. It was agonizing to watch. Lucian’s organs seemed to bubble under his skin and Kristopher turned around just fast enough to miss Lucian’s face twisting into something grotesque in order to suppress a scream. The whole process was silent but Kristopher’s ears were ringing. He looked down at the floor trying to compose himself, trying to think of a way he could cover up the unnatural coming back from the dead part while still showcasing what looked good.

  “Proof enough for you?” The agony was over and Lucian stood, fully alive, once again.

  “Yes.” Kristopher couldn’t bring himself to look up just yet.

  “It’s not so bad after the first time. You get used to it.” Lucian was leaning against the bleachers, his hair matted back with sweat and blood streaked on his face, arms, hands, and clothes. There was no longer a puddle of blood on the floor, it had been reabsorbed into his system during the resurrection. Lucian was breathing heavy, his eyes glazed over. Normally this would be the time he stumbled his way to Miriel’s apartment and collapsed on her couch.

  “When I enter into this whole ritual loop thing,” Kristopher let his voice trail off.

  “You have to enter into the pact by dying after your first kill, it’s necessary to seal the loop. You already know the benefits.”

  Kristopher nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to speak but he wasn’t ready to back out. Lucian looked him over appraisingly. Going to the other side changed people. It brought out the side of the themselves they were afraid or unable to unleash in the living world. That was what made the first cross so jarring, the physical pain was nothing to coming back and finding yourself so changed. It wasn’t always a bad thing, sometimes it turned people into saints, letting them do good with no inhibitions or concerns.

  Lucian had a feeling that wasn’t what was going to happen to Kristopher. “I’ll meet you out here later tonight, but right now I have to get ready for my acolytes.” Lucian pushed Kristopher out the door as three acolytes, all younger than Eric had been, walked in carrying their book. The three went to a storage room to pull out a round table and chairs while Lucian briefly stepped outside, coming back with a small clump of something dark and throwing it in the center of the table.

  ***

  “What we practiced yesterday, try it again.” Lucian stared down the trio of acolytes, each already looking tired, drained, and frustrated only ten minutes into the lesson.

  The three sat at the table silently staring at the main attraction, a dead bird. Each acolyte held their large, leather bound tome open somewhere near the beginning. The page had been written in longhand with ink, not typed and published, and all of the pages after this were still blank. It was a technique Lucian carried over from his father’s day. Let the students write the textbook, so to speak. Lucian would give them the basic directions but everything else was trial and error. Each acolyte was forced to put their own quirks into every incantation, that way they would not only memorize faster but the odds of each ritual working every time improved. Everything became much more personal. It made things almost impossible to master as a beginner though, and the acolytes were heading to their breaking point.

  Resurrecting an animal as small as a bird was one of the easiest tasks a necromancer could face. There wasn’t a soul or personality to bring back. It was just a matter of rerouting energy. Basic. Doing that without any idea of how it was done, however, made things difficult.

  “I have plenty of time today so one of you better prove to me you’re worthy of all this,” Lucian snapped. His temper was still frayed from the fight with Miriel and he was looking for any reason to yell. “I can stay here all night too if I have to. I have an appointment I’d rather not make as it is.” Lucian tried to lighten the mood.

  The trio looked down at their books. None of them wanted to walk out, but none of them wanted to fail again either.

  “Aaron, why does this page look exactly like your mother’s? Your handwriting seems to have made quite an improvement since last time. What’s your secret?” Lucian was now leaning over the boy’s shoulder, looking even more closely at the page, his voice going back into its harsh tone.

  “Umm, well.” The boy bent down even further over his book, wishing he could make himself disappear into the pages.

  “Aaron?” Lucian asked, his tone softening as Aaron started to shake. The other two acolytes finally had enough nerve to lift up their heads knowing the attention was off them for the moment.

  “It just.” Aaron closed the book and dropped it on the table, moving the bird a few inches back. “Well, you know mom. She sits with you and raises the dead and makes everything look so easy. I don’t see how I could come up with anything better. I just borrowed her book. I thought it would help.”

  Lucian pulled up a chair, trying to suppress a chuckle and faced Aaron at his level. “It’s not about what works better or worse. If we had instructions every crack pot site on the internet would actually give away what we’ve tried to keep hidden and protected. You need training, obviously, but you can’t count on following a pattern. You have to figure out most of it on your own. The harder things get the more you have to fail. Now.” Lucian stood up and kicked the chair away, his voice turning cold, his eyes hard, but without the anger they’d had earlier. “Try again. One at a time. Clarissa, go first.”

  The only girl in the group looked down immediately. She had been so sure Aaron would be the first to try again she hadn’t been prepared to avoid eye contact.

  “Now, Clarissa,” Lucian tapped her shoulder and the girl looked hopelessly at the dead bird.

  She paged through the book in front of her, trying to find something on a previous page that could help. There weren’t that many pages to choose from and this was the first time they’d been asked to bring something back to life that was already dead and not just dying. Finally deciding there was nothing else she could do to stall, Clarissa focused on the bird. She muttered the words scribbled in her book, deciding they weren’t important as she looked at the bird, putt
ing most of her energy into pulling out life from wherever she could find it.

  The bird on the table started to move and let out a squawk that said it was alive but probably shouldn’t be. The movement only lasted for a few seconds before Clarissa slumped forward, panting heavily and starting to sweat.

  “Could either of you tell what she was doing?”

  Derrick, the final member of the trio, nodded slowly still trying to work things out in his mind to the point where he could say something sensible. “It’s like a transfer. Using our lives as a power cell to raise the dead.”

  Lucian nodded slowly. “Good, but be careful. The more difficult the resurrection the longer your recovery time will be. Some of us are never able to master anything harder than this. That’s what makes what we do so complicated. Even the strongest of you will need to learn how to kill so you have more life to pull.”

  The trio nodded, understanding almost everything he said. Lucian dismissed the three and allowed his mind to wander back towards Kristopher and the night ahead of them.

  6. Still Three Years Before the War (Kristopher)

  Lucian followed Kristopher out to the street but didn’t interfere. It was up to him to do things right. Kristopher hunted in a style Lucian called ‘the vampire.’ It was archaic, overdone, and not very efficient or creative. Kristopher immediately went to a dark alley and hid in the shadows to pounce on an unaware passer-by. It was a novice mistake. The only people you find in dark alleyways this time of night in the real world are the dangerous kind that don’t die easily. There was still a chance Kristopher would get lucky, or even show himself to be a surprise natural. Lucian always had a sneaking suspicion that all politicians had an inner sadist banging on the closet door trying to get out. That’s why they took such pride in totally slaughtering the competition and ruining reputations beyond repair. It was the only kind of sadism you could get away with both legally and in front of your adoring public. Maybe Kristopher would take to things easily. He was already warming up to the idea of killing since just a few hours before. He might even turn into Lucian’s new protégé, although Lucian had to admit that was a long shot.

  Kristopher settled into the shadows, leaning against a wall and trying his best to look half-asleep. Lucian admired his ability to act like he didn’t care about the grime getting on his suit, not the best clothing choice for this line of work, but it seemed to work for Kristopher. Everything about him seemed to lend itself to this way of life with a charisma Lucian never had. He could have been the poster figure for assassination, the front man for the whole cult. He could deliver on everything he promised. Lucian saw it and for the first time in his abnormally long life refused to acknowledge how badly things could go. Kristopher was made for this and once all his fears were gone he and Lucian would be able to turn this world into something to be proud of. The idea of all that power went straight to Lucian’s head and with no Miriel to straighten him out it stayed there.

  A dark chuckle came from Kristopher as someone started down the alley and Lucian finally realized why he’d chosen such a stereotypical spot. Kristopher didn’t have an assassin to clean up the mess and share targets people already wanted dead, a way of life Lucian had gotten used to. Kristopher had to find someone no one would miss all on his own. Several people walked by, but Kristopher didn’t twitch. He watched them and as Lucian watched him he finally realized what the politician was waiting for. The exit of their alley was up against a side street that connected to a highway and at that intersection, trying hard to be overlooked, was a man. That silhouette was the reason the others had risked the alley in the first place. Well, it wasn’t really the man himself but the things he had access to. Now Kristopher was really showing himself to be clever. An addict might be expected to turn up dead or disappear but there were people who wanted the body. A dealer, on the other hand... If a dealer turned up dead, or ‘disappeared’, quick assumptions were made so the whole thing could be swept under the rug and ignored. It was the perfect kill for an amateur. If Kristopher could get to him.

  Kristopher watched for several hours before he stirred. He moved forward and Lucian stayed behind to observe from a distance. Lucian almost walked with him but, regardless of what Miriel had accused him of, Lucian had only killed with her. She was the only exception. Normally Lucian only killed when he was alone and never accompanied anyone else. He felt no need to dirty his hands with blood he didn’t shed himself.

  Kristopher had taken off his jacket and was stumbling forward into traffic. An almost perfect imitation of the shadows he’d spent most of the night watching. He would have been perfect if he hadn’t smelled like money and arrogance from a mile away. The dealer looked at him suspiciously, but it was obvious he wasn’t a cop and the journalists had better stories to cover these days than drug rings. The dealer eyed him as he stumbled across the road and onto the concrete median hand on a very well polished gun, but money does a lot to ease the mind. It wasn’t long after Kristopher pulled out his wallet that the dealer made up his mind to make a sale. The dealer nodded to something Kristopher said, Lucian couldn’t tell what from his place as watcher, and then bent over to get something out of his backpack. It was just a slight bend, but it was enough of an opening for Kristopher. Out of the wallet came a small, but apparently sharp, blade which Kristopher stuck through the dealer’s throat. Kristopher walked away before the man had a chance to bleed out on his shoes.

  Lucian waited as Kristopher walked back and greeted him with an arm around his shoulders, pointing him back to face the man now dying on the concrete highway. “You have to watch him die. You can leave no room for doubt.”

  Kristopher nodded and his eyes stayed on the man who had fallen to his knees a while ago, muscles no longer able to support their own weight. Kristopher watched in sick fascination as the life drained out, back into the world or into the next. He watched as the body shuttered its last before going cold and growing stiff. He stared in fascination at something like the inverse of art. Drawing life out of the world. Lucian had to pull him away from the spot.

  “Come on. The body’s dead and it’s time to finish what you started. You watch them as they die but leave them when they’re cold. Makes things easier to deal with.”

  Kristopher let himself be led back to Lucian’s rented lair, now filled with people he assumed were waiting for Lucian. Kristopher’s face was in awe of what he’d been able to do, how easy it was. He wasn’t aware of anything else and Lucian couldn’t help but be a little proud of the monster he was creating.

  Other than the extra people, the gym looked about the same. There were thick black drapes covering windows and doors, and a few tables were set up where clusters of people sat around. Nothing too menacing. Kristopher wasn’t bothered by that this time. It wasn’t about show or appearance, it was about what they could do. That was all they needed. It wasn’t even really a cult because Lucian could and did deliver on all his promises and members could leave whenever they chose, no questions asked. All they lost was their ability to stay alive…not many left.

  “Lucian,” several of the congregation nodded when they saw him walk by but no one bowed or kissed his feet. He was respected, but not worshipped. Not that Lucian didn’t have his admirers, but they were young and looking for an idol. Things changed the longer you lived. Lucian nodded back to them in acknowledgement but didn’t speak. He continued to drag Kristopher along though a maze of tables and people before settling at one with a group of members, none of whom could have been long into their thirties, if that. Kristopher, finally making it back to reality, looked at Lucian with an expression of blind confusion. It only made sense that Lucian, as head or chief or whatever he was, should sit at the table with what looked like the elders. Kristopher looked over at that table, then back where Lucian was currently sitting.

  Lucian followed his eyes and laughed. He pulled Kristopher over to the side and whispered, “Think about what we do. Then tell me why we would revere age.” He paused for effect.
“Why would we look up to mortality.”

  Kristopher looked at the crowd again, this time seeing the obvious transition. Those in the groups closest to the back doors were the youngest, slightly wide eyed, their faces still showing the innocence that only wears off with age and bad experiences. The seniority progressed the way you’d think it would, clusters starting to age and look more battle hardened. Until the very front of the room. The only difference between Lucian’s circle and the groups huddled in the back was the look of youthful innocence. It was gone at the front of the room. Otherwise they looked exactly the same age. The room was a circle.

  “Lucian. How old are you?”

  “Ah.” Lucian chuckled to himself. “Think of us as the new century’s Dorian Gray. We just have different ways to hide our souls.”

  “So when I finish whatever this loop thing does I won’t age?”

  Kristopher didn’t bother to try and hide his excitement. Immortality was one thing, but a youthful immortality…

  Lucian laughed outright, and several of those sitting at the head table turned to Kristopher and sneered, watching Lucian explain the rules.

  “Everyone, except those in the back, have the power to bring someone back from the dead. Those closer to the front can reanimate corpses. Those at the table here can bring back the dead at any time after death. I can keep you from ever having to die at all. If you follow the rules. But we can’t stop time. Eventually you get too old to keep your end of the bargain and instantly die of old age. Those of us here, we have a different set of rules now. It’s almost like professional courtesy. You send so many souls beyond and are offered the gift of your youth. Every time we die we get to reset the clock to the age of our choice. It’s not something I can offer you.” Lucian cut Kristopher off before he could get the questions out. “You’ll understand once you’ve had some practice.” Lucian remained serious and composed, as his position required him to, but there were some knowing snickers from others within earshot. Kristopher pretended he wasn’t feeling left out. Circumstances made him part of this group but he’d never really be one of them. He hadn’t gone through the ranks and he had no interest in learning anything they believed in. Lucian was the best and if Kristopher could use him as an employee there was no reason to go through the extra effort.