by Thomas Grave
“A nobody,” Sebastian repeated. “You honestly believe that?”
“Compared to Dalton? Yes. I can only imagine the good he has done. The lives he has saved.”
Silence lingered in the air. Finally, Sebastian broke it. “It seems the answer to my problem was in front of me this whole time. Little did I know that it would be in the form of an idiot.”
Cole cast his gaze down, staring at his boots. “I am an idiot.”
“True.” Sebastian sat up and sighed. “But you’re also a good person, Cole. Probably one of the most righteous humans I’ve ever met. I see that you have a good heart. I hear it in your words. Jumping in front that human to save him, maybe at the cost of your own life?”
“It’s what anybody would have done.”
“Nobody does that.” He paused. “A lot of humans speak the words, but when the times comes, they don’t mean them. That’s why you’re different.”
Sebastian propped his head up on his elbow, which was buried in the hay. He eyed Cole seriously. “Would you be interested in a job?”
Cole sat up. “A what?”
Sebastian put his hand on Cole’s shoulder. “Let me show you something.”
And the next thing Cole knew, they were back in Elton.
Stumbling forward, Cole was almost in a daze. He placed his hands on his head to try and stop the spinning. Things were blurry, taking seconds too long to come into focus. Every torch had a faint bright halo around it. He felt drunk, yet sober at the same time. Finally, his feet became steady. In front of him, Sebastian strolled casually down a dimly lit but bustling street, hands behind his back, head held high as though he were royalty.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” he muttered.
Sebastian let out a frustrated huff. “It’ll pass. Get over it.”
A few city guards stood tall against a horse trough, looming over the passersby. Others walked along chatting. A few pub regulars stumbled about drunk; others were still inside spending their money and celebrating. It was late and the road was busy.
Nobody paid Cole or Sebastian any mind. A party of four or five carousers would have walked straight into Cole if he hadn’t managed to jump out of the way in time.
“Hey, watch it!” Cole yelped, but they ignored him. “Can they not see me?” Cole spat.
“No,” Sebastian said, striding down the street.
Cole jerked his head away from the receding group of carousers toward Sebastian. “No?”
“No, they can’t.”
“Huh,” Cole said, more to himself than Sebastian. He breathed in deep for a moment before straightening up and saying, “All right. So, what are we doing here?”
Perhaps the boy had not heard the question, for Sebastian kept walking in silence with a tight jaw and a subtle shake of his head. Finally he came to a stop and gazed up at the stars. “It seems I’ve been ordered to rest.”
“Rest?”
Swallowing his revulsion, Sebastian nodded.
“I don’t understand.”
Sebastian frowned. “I am to live as a human for a while to gain some sort of humanity.”
Cole felt the bitterness in Sebastian’s words. The air around them grew warmer and Cole wiped sweat off his brow.
Seeming to have noticed the heated air, Sebastian took a deep breath to calm himself. He fixed his eyes on Cole. “You are to take my place.”
“Take your place?”
“Yes.”
Cole practically ran to keep up with Sebastian’s strides. “As Death?”
“Yes.”
“But I—I’m—I’m—”
“A wormy little human? Trust me, I’m quite aware.” Sebastian chuckled. “But, I think I can do something about that.”
“Like what?”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“You’re going to what?”
Sebastian sighed. “Well, it’s not really killing. It’s just, well, changing you.”
He picked up a rock and started casually tossing it up in the air as he walked. “I mean, really, it’s not like you have anything to live for. The girl you love doesn’t love you, you’re sleeping in a hay wagon for cripes’ sake. I’m offering you something great.”
He stopped and faced Cole. “A chance to be something great.”
Cole pressed his lips together, considering Sebastian’s words. “For how long?”
“I don’t know. It could be for a year. Maybe a hundred. Maybe more. As a consolation, if you do this for me, I shall do you a favor.”
Cautiously, Cole asked, “What type of favor?”
They stopped walking when Cole realized they were at the One Legged Dog. Outside, a few of Taniel’s men worked to repair the hole in the wall.
“Look,” Sebastian said, gesturing above the hole to a window overlooking the street. A silhouette of a fine figured woman could be seen beyond a flickering candle in the window.
“That is Imogen O’Sullivan,” Sebastian said. “She is the reason I’ve come to Elton.”
She is the reason I have come to Elton. The boy’s words repeated in his mind. Come to Elton. Death has come to Elton. Death has come for Imogen.
Deep in his chest, Cole felt his heart drop.
“No,” he said, his voice shaking.
“Inside her brain, there is a small bleed, one that will take her life tonight as she sleeps.”
“Imogen is going to die?” Cole’s voice faltered.
Sebastian took hold of Cole’s shoulder and gently turned him around to face him. “As a gift to you for doing this for me, I will help her.”
Their eyes locked. “Not only that, I will remove her from my Book. By doing this, she will live forever, if you so request it to be.”
Cole swallowed. “Wait. So, you—you’re giving me Imogen as a gift?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Sebastian said sternly. “I am giving you a possible companion. Earning her love is on you.”
His expression softened. “If you cannot, you can simply put her back in the Book, and she can live out the rest of her natural life without the risk of the bleed.”
“If it saves her life, I’ll do anything you ask.”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “You understand what this means?”
Cole took a deep breath. “Yes. I will be your tool.”
“My instrument of death,” Sebastian said solemnly.
“It matters not. Her life?” Cole pointed to the window. “Is all that matters. Save her and I will be anything you wish me to be.”
“Excellent!” Sebastian exclaimed. “Now, let’s handle this little pact situation.”
Sebastian scanned the area, but paused when he saw Dalton stumbling out of the tavern, a bottle of ale in his hand. A heavy smell of liquor gushed at Cole’s nostrils as he winced. Dalton stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Sebastian and Cole. His mouth gaped open, drool falling from his lips.
“Ah, Dalton,” Sebastian said. “Perfect timing.”
He snapped his fingers.
Dalton collapsed on the street like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
“Is—is he dead?”
“Quite. The pact will jump once more and kill another human, but who cares, right?”
“So,” said Sebastian as he turned to Cole and loudly clapped once. “You reeeeeaaady?”
With his heels pushed together, he bowed slightly, showing that awful smile that could melt an iceberg.
Cole took a deep breath, then slowly nodded.
Sebastian gestured for Cole to come closer. He did so. “Oh, I almost forgot, one last thing,” the boy said. “While you have a piece of my power, you cannot have any children.”
Cole shrugged. “Um, that’s fine. Who wants kids anyway?”
“Good boy. I knew we could work things out.” Sebastian placed his hands on Cole’s shoulders and drew him in. He kissed him hard on the cheek. Somehow Cole couldn’t help feeling that Sebastian’s actions did not spring from affection, but from som
ething much darker. Sebastian released him and stepped back.
“Tha—That’s it?” Cole asked. “I don’t feel any different.”
“Uh, no,” Sebastian said, backing up a few feet.
Without warning, Sebastian arched his arms back as if holding something high and swung them forward. He snatched his scythe as it materialized in mid-air and pierced Cole through the chest. With a deafening crunch, the blade stabbed into Cole’s torso and came out through his back. Blood ran down Cole’s chest and back, dripping to the ground.
Cole grunted and fell to his knees. Sebastian bent down and leaned in close to him. “I wasn’t joking. If I find out you have any kids, I will hunt you and your whole family down and murder them before your eyes. Then, I will let you live forever with the sounds of their screams echoing through eternity in your ears. Are we clear?”
Cole swallowed once and then nodded.
The scythe faded into a black smoky shadow that slithered towards Cole, devouring his blood that lay in a sticky pool on the ground and reaching with inky tendrils for Cole’s body. The shadow encircled his legs and traveled up his bleeding body, encompassing him in darkness. The shadow seeped in through his eyes, ears, his very pores, becoming part of him. Dark clouds with crackling lightning appeared in his eyes.
Cole opened his mouth wide, gulping for air. Then the pain was gone. He gazed at his chest. There was no wound. Looking up, he hoped for more answers, but Sebastian was gone.
“She will live now,” Sebastian’s booming voice echoed around. “Now, get to work.”
On the ground in front of him lay an old, tattered, leather-bound book, about the size of a small bible. Cole bent down and took the book in his hands. Though it appeared completely unremarkable, Cole could sense a pulse coming from the pages, almost like a heartbeat of a great beast.
He stood, his boots squelching on the muddy road, and glanced around. The street was deserted. He ran his palm over the book’s cover, absorbing its energy. A strange feeling came over him, a feeling he’d rarely felt in his life.
Power.
Movement flickered in the window above The Three Legged Dog. She was there. Waiting. He put the book in his pocket, cast one more glance about the deserted streets, and strode toward the tavern, toward Imogen, his destination.
His home.
III
Ascension
Nine months ago
The cherry-finished oak door before her, which was divided into four large sections of stained glass separated by wood, reminded her of dried kitten blood.
Amber tucked a strand of violet hair behind her ear. The rest of her shoulder-length, mostly pitch-black hair flowed about as if blown by the wind, though no breeze blew. She’d chosen the violet highlights since they matched her eyes perfectly. She didn’t care that they weren’t her natural eye color. Humans she had spoken to often assumed she wore colored contacts. They were so one-dimensional, unable to comprehend anything beyond what they could see and touch, anything beyond the mundane. Her eye color was achieved by magical means, as was the color of her hair.
Her violet eyes pierced the blood red door as she rubbed her chin and considered her plan.
“Bah, who needs a plan anyway?” she said aloud after only a moment of contemplation.
She brought her fist to the door, ready to knock, but paused to admire her shiny violet nails. She smiled, pleased with how neat they looked. Normally, she would have had her nails covered with a black gloss, but she’d been feeling good this morning, almost festive, more like herself, so she treated herself to a professional manicure. She knocked lightly on the door and extended her fingers for a closer inspection.
What the—?
Something was off. She squinted and brought her nails closer to her eyes. What the hell? Did that stupid lady at the nail salon think she wouldn’t notice a slightly different color on her pinky? As she resolved to punish the stupid old lady later, to give her a slow, painful death, she glanced up as a shadow moved behind the stained glass. The clicking of the locks followed. The door opened, revealing an older human male dressed in perfectly-creased navy-blue pants and a cream-colored button-down with a periwinkle blue tie that was half-knotted. He wore gunmetal-gray small-framed glasses with thin lenses. Amber assumed this was Sheryl’s dad.
“Yes,” he asked in a tone of confusion mingling with frustration at the interruption.
Amber couldn’t help it. “Does this look a darker shade to you?” She held her pinky a few inches from his face.
The man blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Never mind. I’m here for Sheryl.”
“Sharon?” the man asked.
Oops! Whatever. “Yeah, Sharon. That’s it. Sharon.”
Sharon’s dad asked, “I’m sorry, but who are you again?”
Amber closed her eyes. This spell, one of her favorites, indeed her specialty, would only take a second to complete. The words reverberated in the back of her mind, and when she opened her eyes, all of his memories were available to her. All she had to do was look. It only took her a second to find what she was searching for.
She flipped her hair. “My apologies. I’m a school friend. She asked me to pick her up this morning for an extra credit assignment.”
He seemed delighted. “Oh! You’re helping Sharon get extra credit?”
Amber nodded once.
He gave a small, fake chuckle. “Well, she does need the extra credit, doesn’t she?”
Offering him her own false smile, Amber nodded. “Indeed.”
Sharon’s dad left the door open and retreated into his house.
The spiritual energy spilling out the doorway was insanely high, so no matter how hard she tried, Amber would never be able to cross the threshold. This house must have been in the family for generations: batches of kids raised, multiple Thanksgiving gatherings and Christmas presents opened . . . The joys of this family’s life pulsed at her from within. The family who lived here was happy, and her kind was not allowed inside such a haven.
She slid back an inch.
She knew that all supernatural creatures were bound by this rule, which also protected mortals from all forms of mind control. If she were a vampire, which of course she wasn’t, she would not be able to compel her way in. This meant, her charm spells would not work either.
Well, this is just an unexpected hiccup. The old fashioned way would do nicely.
Innocently she asked, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
He turned back. “Oh, sure. Please, come on in.”
Her cheeks pulled back into a feral grin. “Thank you.”
Even with the invitation, the spiritual energy pressed upon her as she walked into the house. She needed to move quickly because that same spiritual energy that did not want her here drained her of her Gifts. “Um, excuse me, mister?”
He turned to her. “Yes?”
Their eyes met as she stepped to him, grabbed him by the neck, and snapped his spine. She had grown to love the sound. It reminded her of snapping a twig . . .
Instantly, he collapsed to the floor. Amber bent down and kissed him on the forehead.
She whispered, “Aw, don’t worry. You won’t die.” Drool fell from his mouth, accompanied by a garbled slur. She spoke as if talking to a baby, “At least not yet.”
As soon as the last word left her lips, she playfully poked him on the forehead, picked herself up, stepped over him, and proceeded into the living room. It opened up into a rather large kitchen that looked like it had been professionally styled by an interior decorator.
At the bar sat an older woman with her pink towel wrapped around her head and a matching robe. This had to be Sharon’s mother.
“Who was it dear?” she said, staring at Amber with a furrowed brow.
Amber already had this spell prepared. She brought up her hand, palm face up.
Gravity shifted.
The ground rumbled. Everything close to the bar, including Sharon’s mom, flew to the ceiling. Car keys
, some pens and paper, and a family picture flew up. Sharon’s mother’s head collided with and shattered the overhead light, knocking her unconscious.
By closing her palm, Amber released the spell and gravity shifted back.
Everything fell.
Sharon’s mom slammed into the bar on her way down. The sound echoed throughout the house.
Amber calmly walked past the mess she’d created, searching for her target.
“Mom, did something break?” A teenaged girl spoke as she walked into the room.
Amber presumed this was Sharon. She wasn’t bad looking, this girl. Her straight black hair had a nice shine, and she was so petite, the top of her head just reaching Amber’s chin. Her piercings were kind of sweet too, one small ring on her nose and another on her eyebrow. The girl wore a khaki skirt and a white polo.
Sharon stared at her fallen mother. “Mom!”
Bringing her index finger to her lips, Amber whispered, “Shhh . . .”
Lights flickered as the sound left her mouth, and Sharon instantly crumpled onto the floor.
With a pep in her step, Amber sauntered to the fallen, limp body of the teenager.
“Sharon is it? Let me ask you a question. You look like a young lady of fashion,” Amber said thrusting her pinky finger a few inches from Sharon’s face. “Does this look a darker shade to you?”
A tear fell from Sharon’s dark eye, leaving a black, mascara filled tear track.
Withdrawing her hand, Amber said, “Ah, no matter.”
She delicately brushed the side of Sharon’s cheek. “You have such a pretty face.”
Two hours later
Though snow coated the top of the massive, white brick, three storey building, a new growth of green grass covered the lawn. Freshly planted mountain laurel flowers were arranged around the entrance for display to announce the beginning of spring. The ornately decorated black stone of the window ledges contrasted with the white bricks. Tall bay windows, high pointed arches and four cupolas topped each corner of the building, made of the same black stone, giving the building a Victorian gothic feel that Amber enjoyed. In her opinion, the only thing missing was a pair of stone gargoyles at the spire pinnacles.