by Thomas Grave
Sebastian even found himself chuckling a bit.
“She came out with this genuine smile that I’ll never forget.” He smiled to himself and glared down at the podium. “That’s when she told me that she already had a boyfriend.”
Grayson stared at Sebastian, sadness in his face. “Sebastian, you are such a lucky guy, and upon consideration, even though it kinda ticked me off for a long time, I got to say that you’re honestly the nicest guy I have ever met and I think Sara made the right choice. Honestly, I was jealous, man. I guess that’s why I haven’t said anything to you this entire time. You have my sincerest condolences and utmost respect.”
He wiped a tear from his cheek. “For those of you who didn’t know Sara, I feel sorry for you. She was brilliant without even trying. A person who, by walking into a room, instantly made it brighter. If I could tell her one last thing, it would be ‘thank you,’ for allowing me the chance to know her, however briefly. Thank you.”
Grayson stepped down and made his way back to where he’d been standing. As he crossed in front of Sebastian, he put his hand on his shoulder, bent down and whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry, man. I got your back.”
After Grayson took his seat, the pastor returned to the podium and everyone stood.
The pastor began to read, “The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want . . .”
Sara’s casket began being lowered into the ground. Sebastian gazed at it, as if it was falling away from him, from this world, from his life.
The pastor’s voice flowed gently. “He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters. . .”
Sebastian swallowed hard. The tie around his neck tightened.
The pastor continued. “He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness For His name’s sake.”
Sebastian grabbed at his collar trying to loosen it, but it didn’t help. He couldn’t breathe. He took a deep shuddering breath and realized his nose was becoming stuffy.
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.”
Salty tears stung his eyes. He tried blinking them away, but they just kept coming, streaming uncontrollably down his face. His hands shook.
“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You have anointed my head with oil; My cup overflows.”
The casket disappeared from his line of sight, deep underground.
“Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
With the last line came the realization that he was never going to see her again, and it washed through him like a tidal wave. They would never have a future together. She was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it.
His knees buckled beneath him but before he fell to the grass, Hope caught him on one side, and his mother on the other. Hope hugged him tightly as she pressed her head against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her for support. His mom leaned close to him, whispering in his ear and stroking his hair. “I know, sweetie. I’m here. It’s okay. I’m here for you.”
Tuesday, 11:48 am
After the funeral, he lay down on his bed, ready to take a nap, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Sara. He stared up at the white ceiling, longing for her, wishing she were lying next to him holding his hand. There was an emptiness in his life, a void in his heart without her. She completed him and made him whole. The ache hit him deep inside and radiated throughout his body. Even though he had let some of it out at the funeral, he wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet.
His mother knocked gently on his bedroom door and came into his room. “Hey,” she said softly. “Want to go out for lunch?”
He breathed in a deep breath and shook his head. He didn’t want to disappoint his mom, but he just needed to be alone.
She nodded in understanding.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Take some time. I’ll order some pizza and bring it to you in a few. I’ll be here if you need to talk.” She pulled the door closed, leaving him by himself in the dim light.
He loved his mother, but he didn’t need her right now. No, the only person he needed was Sara. He needed to go back to the cemetery. He’d be able to feel her presence there. His decision relaxed him somewhat, and without realizing it, he fell asleep.
When he awoke, his room was wrapped in shadows. He checked the clock. Almost nine. He’d slept the afternoon and much of the evening away. Clicking on the TV, the glare lit up his room and flickered on his walls. He flipped the channels until something caught his attention.
The evening news.
An attractive female news anchor said, “The search that made national news for two teens has come to a tragic end almost six months after it began.”
Two high school yearbook photos, a boy and a girl, flashed on the TV.
Oh, no, Sebastian thought. Hope would be upset about this.
Sebastian sat up and leaned forward on his bed. He reached over to his desk and pulled open the top drawer. Underneath a couple of his old sketchpads, he pulled out a pamphlet. On the front of the pamphlet were the same two faces—the boy and the girl. The story of the missing teens had garnered national headlines, and at the end of the school year this past June, Hope had organized a vigil for the missing kids. She’d asked students to meet at the school one evening and light a candle for ten minutes. She’d been surprised by the turn out. Over seventy-five percent of the students showed. The message, she’d said, was for these two teens to “find their way home.” Since then, there had been no word on what happened to them.
He set the pamphlet down and picked up the remote to turn up the volume. The anchorwoman went on: “These two teens have been positively identified as Makayla Roberts and Ethan Campbell, both of whom had gone missing nearly six months ago. It was reported the pair, who were boyfriend and girlfriend, had taken a trip to the Pocono Mountains and had not been seen since. Search teams had covered a large section of the mountains, as well as the nearby woodlands. A small team of divers also tried searching Shohola Lake, but with the area being so large . . .”
Sebastian listened intently, the glare of the television dancing on his face.
“The search was called off three months ago, but on Sunday a local fisherman accidently—”
“Sebastian?” His mother poked her head around his bedroom door. “I thought I heard your TV on.”
She came in, bent down, and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “Ah sweetie, I’m so sorry to do this to you . . . I tried taking tonight off to be here with you, but something big came up at work. I’m afraid I’ve got to head out.”
Sebastian nodded. “I understand.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just going to try and get some more sleep. You go to work. Love you.”
She smiled at him. “Love you too.”
Fifteen minutes later, outside his window, he heard his mom’s car engine roar to life. It faded away as it headed down the street. So much death in the world. The news story about the drowned teens brought back thoughts of Sara.
Sebastian shook his head and wiped a tear that had trickled down his cheek. He needed to see her one last time, or at least he needed to be close to her, to talk to her in privacy. He kicked his blanket off the bed and leapt up.
Opening his closet, he put on a blood red shirt and some dark jeans. He grabbed his jacket—the weather report had talked about snow—and stood in the middle of his bedroom. He had no idea if it would work, if he’d be able to travel so far, but he had to try. He took a deep breath and blinked himself back to the cemetery.
Present Day
Tuesday, 9:17 pm
The mist-shrouded moon lit up the night sky of the Baltimore Cemetery. The sun had gone down a little less than an hour before with the night creeping in quickly. The stars were out, sharing the sky with some smaller dark clouds. It was early December. Th
e winter had just started, the worst of it yet to come.
Sebastian stared at the tombstone. The words inscribed there made her death feel so real. His eyes watered and his vision blurred from staring at it for so long. There were so many questions he wanted to ask her. Ask God. Anyone. How did she know about the Book? What was she doing the night her roof exploded? Why did you leave me?
Etched onto the stone, the epitaph read: This is only the beginning; be prepared for the end.
What could that possibly mean? And why would her parents put such a morbid thing on her tombstone?
“Sara,” he whispered into the growing darkness. “Sara.”
He liked how her name sounded on his tongue, so alive.
Alive?
Alive.
He narrowed his eyes.
Wait a minute. He’d been so caught up with her funeral that the concept hadn’t registered.
“I am Death,” he said slowly. “I. Am. Death.”
Why couldn’t he talk to her? For that matter, why couldn’t he talk to Jared either? He blinked back home.
Mr. Thompson watched Sebastian blink away from the cemetery. He had been keeping track of him all day. He had to talk to him, warn him of the upcoming danger. But he had put himself in a dangerous situation by creating his own mess with his daughter.
A few feet away, just off to the side, space and time bent, reality shimmering. The air wavered as someone or something pushed through, ripping open a fiery portal. As soon as the portal burst open, a beautiful woman, her hair straight and jet black, pressed forward. Her bangs were evenly cut across her forehead. Thick black eyeliner accentuated her striking black eyes, contrasting brightly with the whites of her eyes that seemed to glow. She wore a white, floor-length dress, with gold cord tied around her waist. She looked as though she’d just stepped out of Ancient Egypt. Red lightning struck her body in a vain attempt to keep her back, but she ignored the assault. Wrapped around her bicep was an armband with cryptic symbols that matched Mr. Thompson’s bell. After a few seconds, the red lightning ceased and the vortex closed.
Mr. Thompson knew all too well about the armband. At first glance, the crest seemed like a normal wax Seal, the type that would be found on an ancient scroll or a king’s letter. Upon closer inspection, he saw that there were five sigils or runes etched in a circle. At the three o’clock position, one glowed crimson.
She stood beside Mr. Thompson but her eyes were fixed upon the spot Sebastian had been. Mr. Thompson knew exactly who and what she was. The Third Seal.
“Cleo,” he whispered through clenched teeth.
“Pathetic human,” she replied.
“I should kill you.”
She smirked. “You would be dead before you could draw your weapon.”
“Why are you here?” he asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
“To see the boy,” said Cleo. “He has awakened.”
Mr. Thompson gawked at her. “He is not of age. It was not sup—”
“We do not care. We will make our move soon. If this boy is not ready, that is on you.”
“Just . . . wait a few yea—” Mr. Thompson pleaded, his British accent coming out thicker.
“We’ve made our decision,” she said, yawning.
Mr. Thompson pursed his lips. “I won’t let you.”
“Kneel,” she demanded, eyes cold and distant.
Pain immediately flared in Mr. Thompson’s toes. Rapidly, it slithered all the way up his legs to his waist. The bones in his legs felt like they’d shattered as he collapsed onto his hands and knees. Yet there was no physical damage. Every nerve in his body screamed as though it were on fire. He tried desperately to cry out in agony, but he couldn’t open his mouth.
Cleo spoke, perfectly relaxed. “You won’t let us?” She laughed. “You won’t let us do what, exactly? Let me be clear with you. Despite what you think you are? To us, you are just a human. Nothing more. Something that can easily be broken.”
She clasped her hands behind her back.
“Stand,” she said, the command echoing throughout the graveyard.
Even with the fibers in his legs on fire, the legs obeyed, completely out of his control. His eyes widened as he stood up, almost blacking out from the pain. His legs trembled. He was a puppet being held by invisible strings.
She continued. “As soon as our business is conducted with the sixth Seal, we will come for your child. Resign yourself to the fact there is nothing you can do.” She drew out her words slowly, distinctly. “Nothing. This is my warning to you. Stay out of our way. If you do not, I personally will come and rip you and that pretty little wife of yours apart limb by limb.”
She spun around to walk away, but paused. “I shall give you a taste.” She turned back to him and giggled a single word. “Burst.”
A wave of the most intense pain detonated inside his body and throughout every inch of his being. The light went out of his eyes as his knees buckled and landed him face down on the ground.
A haunting, feminine laugh echoed throughout the graveyard. Cleo walked to where reality had rippled. A doorway of purple flames roared to life, splitting reality at its seams. As soon as she entered, it swallowed her whole and dissipated in a haze of fading embers.
Tuesday, 9:20 pm
Sebastian switched on the small reading lamp sitting on the nightstand beside his bed. It flickered to life, illuminating just the tiniest fraction of his room, casting shadows onto the walls. His own shadow was huge, a daunting mass of flapping cloth with the curved edge of his scythe looming above. This shocked him at first, for in the real world he still wore his regular clothing, but he soon relaxed into it. He felt intuitively that even when he didn’t draw upon his power, it was always with him, awaiting his command.
Closing his eyes, Sebastian took a deep breath and held out his hands. “Elder, show yourself.”
A cloud of black mist billowed out of his shadow and encircled his body. It slithered down the length of his arms. When the mist hit his palms, they coalesced into the familiar form of the Book.
I am here.
“I have a question for you.”
He walked over to his desk and propped the Book up against a pile of paperbacks. Sitting down in his desk chair, Sebastian eyed the Book intently, like a lawyer staring down a witness. The process wouldn’t be easy, but he would find a way to make the ornery tome talk.
The Elder remained silent, seemingly knowing what was coming.
“Elder?”
I am listening.
“With me being Death . . .”
Moments of silence ensued as Sebastian gradually leaned forward.
Go on, the Elder urged.
“Can I . . . bring people back from the dead?” Sebastian asked, the last part a little quicker than he would have liked.
The Book remained silent.
“Can I bring—”
The Elder cut him off by bursting into a thick cloud of black mist and slithering back into the shadows. Sebastian stood dumbfounded, staring at the walls, unsure of what had just happened. But, still, he could feel the Elder’s presence.
“Elder?”
The Elder didn’t reply.
Sebastian ran his fingers through his hair. “Why can’t you just—”
—May I ask, whom do you wish to bring back? the Elder asked, deep inside Sebastian’s mind.
He took a moment to think about the question, then counted on his fingers. “First, my girlfriend. And, second—”
—Jared Ryan, the Elder finished for him. Sebastian, they have passed. Let them go.
“Is it possible?”
There are always consequences for your actions. Remember that.
“With the pacts. I’ve thought about this! Technically, Jared and Sara have already passed. Therefore their pacts or ‘contracts of death’ have already been signed or fulfilled. So, no pact jumping because it’s done, meaning nobody is going to die. So, let me ask you again, is it possible?
Your logic
is significantly flawed.
“But I am right! Right?”
The Book remained silent.
He sighed heavily. “Just answer the question. Is it possible?”
The Book remained silent.
Somehow, Sebastian knew he wasn’t going to get an answer. Getting answers from the Book was like waking up on Christmas morning, running into the living room and getting kicked in the face by Santa Claus. Still, he had to know if he could do this. With all that he had seen, was this idea really so crazy?
There was only one sure-fire way to find out. Try it. Whether the book liked it or not, Sebastian was bound and determined to alter fate. Deep down, some part of him knew how to bring Sara back. He just had to figure out how to access that knowledge. Resurrecting the dead wasn’t something they taught in health class. If the Elder wouldn’t help, he’d just have to improvise.
The world needed Sara. She was the kind of person that enriched every life she touched, not just his own. Just being near her made him a better person. He could still see her so clearly, in her forest green jacket and boots, her beaming smile, a vision of immaculate beauty within and without. Such perfection could not, would not be gone forever. Not if Sebastian had anything to say about it.
But how to proceed? Sebastian wondered.
After taking a moment to shake the last second jitters out of his body, he raised his hands and began softly repeating her name, “Sara, Sara, Sara.” That seemed to be the way a magician on TV might bring someone back to life. He tried saying her name at different volumes. The air in the room stood utterly motionless. No puff of smoke or plume of flame revealed itself.
“Relax,” he told himself. “Take a breath. You can do this.”
He took in a huge breath of air and closed his eyes. “Maybe . . .” His left hand fell to his side while he held up his right arm, palm open to the sky.
“If I . . .” Something deep within him stirred. Energy came alive and began coursing through his veins, waiting patiently to be called upon. He steadied his breath.