by Thomas Grave
As she walked down the path, she bent down and plucked a laurel, bringing it to her nose to inhale the scent. “Mmmm, this place is too perfect.”
The flower withered in her hand. She smiled even more.
Tossing the dead laurel on the ground, she continued to the large black stone archway curving over the heavy wooden doors. Makayla’s bus would be arriving soon. After all the preparation the Seals had done, the plan had to succeed. If not, things would turn out badly . . . for everybody.
Deep inside the pockets of her leather jacket, she pulled out a small, round compact mirror. She opened it to see how well the spell worked. Sharon’s image reflected back at her. Flawless. Even her clothing gave off the illusion of the school uniform. With a wink, she closed the compact and tucked it back into her pocket. The squeal of the bus brakes came from behind her.
Makayla’s bus had arrived.
Perfect.
Amber smiled as she stepped into the crowded school hallway. Students had loud conversations around her. Locker doors opened and slammed shut. Shoes squeaked off the freshly mopped, tiled floor.
As she made her way deeper into the school, she found Ethan working his way down the hall, his backpack hanging heavily off one shoulder.
She blew out a sigh of relief.
Getting him here had been a nightmare. His father had been a successful trader in New York. She had a dummy corporation created to recruit him and offer him a job as Director of Marketing here in Pennsylvania.
He refused.
She offered him almost double his salary.
Still he refused.
The stupid mortal was loyal to a fault and it had been a pain in her behind. Amber had to go to New York and charm his boss into getting into a fist fight with him. It would have been so much easier if she could have simply charmed Ethan’s father to move here, but her spells just didn’t have that much staying power. On average, the most she could get out of her charms was about five minutes and she’d needed Ethan’s family’s move to be permanent. After a solid fist to the family jewels, Ethan’s father was more than willing to take the job. Two months later and voila, they were settled in.
Now that Ethan had been successfully transferred, all that needed to happen was for him to meet Makayla and somehow fall in love with her.
Simple, right?
She hoped the last part wouldn’t prove too difficult. It shouldn’t be. She’d done her research. She knew the two were soul mates. The only thing they needed was that special push.
Only how to do that? Hmm . . .
Behind her, two teenage boys sounded off as they approached.
“Walking into this school?”
“Uh huh.”
“The only person I’m scared of?”
“Uh huh.”
“. . . is myself.”
“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamnn . . . Dude! Dude. Duuuuuuude! That line? The mustard is off the hot dog with that one!”
“Melted cheese runs all over the nachos . . .”
“Doh, Chicopopo! Whaaaaaat?”
Amber blinked in surprise. What?
To her immediate left stood two mentally defective douchebags.
Perfect.
It was time for part two of her plan. All of the pieces needed to be put into place.
Her eyes closed for a second, the required time for casting a memory spell. She released it on both douchebags. In an instant, images flooded her mind’s eye. She paused the images and sorted them quickly, ditching all the worthless information . . . like their lives.
Their names were . . . Liam and Justin.
Liam had a decent tan, short buzz cut, and appeared to be in great shape. Tall and athletic. Lanky and fit. Most likely a basketball player.
Wonderful. Idiots with spray tans in the winter were easily manipulated. Charms always worked best on the weak minded.
Justin wasn’t as good looking as Liam, but he smelled like cocoa butter. Amber hated that smell. He’d do nicely.
From all of the research she had done, she knew that Makayla was highly opinionated, strong and independent. If push came to shove, she’d be more than willing to come to Ethan’s rescue. All Amber had to do was force her hand with some sort of altercation.
Stupid girl, so easily manipulated.
But not as easily manipulated as the jocks. Amber loved jocks. To kill them, that is. Only today, they would be her tools.
She walked up to them and interrupted their drivel. “Hey guys,” she said, her voice dripping with phoniness that she knew these idiots were too stupid to pick up.
Liam greeted her with a wide smile. “Sharon. What up, girl.”
Amber closed her eyes. It only took a second to ready her charm spell. Once it was completed, she opened her eyes and made eye contact with Liam. “Go bully that kid and kick his ass.”
Liam asked casually, “Which one?”
Amber pointed to Ethan.
“Done,” said Liam, detached from the world. With his chin high, he strutted toward Ethan. Justin intervened. “What? No, dude. We’re not gonna start messing with some kid. Are you douched? Coach will have our hide if we—”
Almost in a daze, Liam cut off his sidekick by side-stepping him and walking past. Justin stood staring, his mouth agape. Amber, with the faintest trace of her charm spell, quickly made eye contact with Justin.
“Get his back.”
“Of course!” Justin said with glee. “I’ll beat that ass till it’s blue!”
There wasn’t much left in that charm. It would probably fade soon. Oh, well. As long as it would bring her target into the mix, all was good. Speaking of her target, Amber glanced around, searching for her. Makayla entered the school and headed toward her. She knew she had a part to play in the endlessly mundane repetition of Makayla’s life. Amber couldn’t miss Sharon’s line or Makayla might suspect something.
“Makayla!” she shouted, frantically waving her hand.
“Hey,” Makayla replied with a small wave as she walked past her.
Amber saw Makayla continue to her locker. Just to the right of her locker, Amber’s charmed playthings bullied Ethan.
A warm smile lit her face.
“Hey. New kid. You got something on your face,” Liam said, though it was more of a snarky comment.
“Yeah?” Ethan asked, wiping his side of his face. “What is it?”
“Ugly.” Liam shoved him. Hard.
Ethan stumbled backwards and slammed into some lockers. The collision with the metal tore through the hallway with a loud echo. He drew a breath, “What the hell? What’s your problem, man?”
Liam stalked forward. “You. Think you’re somebody special? Like you’re some sort of Beyonce in a school filled with nothing but Michelles?”
“What? What are you talking about!” Ethan said.
“You deaf? I said ‘you smell like hot dog water’.”
Ethan put up a good fight in spite of his smaller stature and a crowd gathered. Justin still stood silently, showing no incentive to step in and try to control his friend. Not that he’d be able to. Amber’s spells might not last long, but they were powerful.
After another moment of scuffling, Liam and Ethan made their way toward Makayla. Amber looked on as Liam continued to give Ethan hell.
Oh, look at the cute little thing trying.
It was about thirty seconds later that Amber, delighted, witnessed Makayla level Liam. Slapped him hard across the face no less. Not once, but twice. Her plan had worked. Even Amber was impressed. This girl was a real firecracker.
Too bad she was going to have to kill her.
Wednesday, 6:58 am
The morning sun rose in the window, adding a layer of warm light to the living room. Sitting side by side on the plush couch, Sebastian and Sara stared directly across from them at Cole Thompson, their science teacher. He leaned back in the plush recliner, a mug of coffee in his hands, seemingly relaxed. He told them a story that took place five hundred years ago in a muddy English town. T
he story would have been unbelievable, but so many strange things had happened to Sebastian and Sara in the last few days that anything was possible. The story Cole Thompson told them was about the moment when Death found him in an alleyway and saved his life. He left out the details of Imogen, their daughter, and the promise he had made to not have children. He could only hope that Sebastian would not get his memories back. If he did . . . well, that could be bad.
Cole also explained that some of the Souls of Purgatorium had the ability to listen to their conversations at night, even here in the world of the living. It was wise, he said, to wait until the sun came up to answer their questions about Sara, about why they wanted her, and what a Revenant was.
As for the Archangels, Cole explained that his bell offered some protection from them, indeed was capable of hiding them from the Angels while in its vicinity.
With his eyes on the window and the rising sun, Cole began speaking more quickly. “I think the Seals are at work here, that somehow you’ve been manipulated from the very start.”
Sebastian tilted his head to one side, listening intently.
“The Seals?” he said.
“They are powerful, Sebastian. Some say they rival the power of an Archangel. Maybe stronger.”
“How do you know this?” Sebastian asked.
Cocking his head, Cole gave an uncertain smile. “Sebastian, I’ve been here for a very long time. This whole thing, everything that’s happened, tells me the Seals are at work. From the death of Sara in the first place to your own choice to bring her back.”
This time, Sara interrupted. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. These Seals? What do they want with me?”
Cole lifted the gaudy “#1 Mom” coffee mug and brought it to his lips. He wanted to draw out this answer as long as possible. He inspected the craftsmanship of the mug. Typical. Something you’d find at a tourist shop or dollar store. He had become accustomed to drinking from his own fine China.
“Mr. Thompson?” Sebastian asked.
“Ah, yes,” replied Cole. He took another sip of his coffee, then took a deep breath and set the cup down on the wooden coffee table in front of him.
“There is a Hierarchy of Souls,” he told them through steepled fingers. “In order to go up the chain, you need to absorb a higher level Soul’s, er, soul. It’s how you take their power.”
“So, what does that have to do with Sara,” Sebastian asked.
Cole bit his lip, unsure how to break the news. He exhaled. “Once you reach the level of Shade, there is only one level higher: that of a Seal. And there is only one way to get to that level.”
“Which is?” Sebastian urged.
“You must consume a Soul who has been ripped from the Light. A Revenant. One who has been reborn into life.”
“They want my soul!”
“Not happening,” Sebastian added.
Cole nodded. “It’s an extremely rare process, as you can imagine.”
The pieces of the puzzle jiggling around Sebastian’s head started falling into place. “So, that one I saw on the throne. That was the leader I presume, right? And the reason he wanted Sara was to absorb her Soul and become a Seal?” Sebastian asked.
“If he is destined to become so, yes,” Cole answered.
“What does that mean?” Sara asked.
“According to the ancient prophecy, certain humans throughout history are destined to become Seals. The Roman emperor, Nero.” He gestured with his hands, continuing his thoughts, “Cleopatra, the last active pharaoh of Ancient Egypt. I don’t know who the others are, but from the start these individuals were destined for greatness. Even in death.” Cole rubbed a hand over his dark stubble.
“How many are there?” Sebastian asked.
“Last I heard, there are five active Seals,” replied Cole. “Each one with a more dangerous and unpredictable Gift.”
Sebastian frowned, shaking his head.
“So I shouldn’t have . . .” he trailed off and gazed at Sara. “I didn’t know I’d be placing her in such danger.”
Sara reached over and put a warm hand over his, squeezing it gently. They sat in silence for a moment before Sebastian glanced up at Mr. Thompson.
“Five Seals,” Sebastian said distantly. “That means previously, in order to create them, someone must have ripped down five Souls. But who has the power to rip down Souls to create Revenants?”
It hit him like he’d been sucker punched in the gut.
“Me. I’ve done this before, haven’t I? The Seals exist because of me.”
Interlocking his fingers, Cole dropped his gaze down to the coffee table. He could not answer this question.
“But, why?” Sebastian wondered. “I mean, I understand why a Shade would want to become a Seal—to achieve more power or whatever—but, right now, you think it was the Seals who killed Sara and then manipulated me into bringing her back?”
Cole nodded. “Correct.”
“Why would the Seals be interested in creating another Seal? Why would they go through this much trouble?”
“Right now, they are at five. In order to complete their numbers, they need to be at seven. According to the prophecy, they cannot begin their plan unless they are complete,” said Cole.
“Their plan,” Sebastian said, more an echo than a question.
“What happens when they are complete?” asked Sara, leaning in closer.
The words slipped out in no more than a whisper, “The End.”
A car horn honked from the outside, startling them. Sebastian was the first to get up. He hurried to the window. “It’s Hope.”
“Hope Ryan?” Cole asked. “What is she doing here?”
“Looking for her brother,” said Sebastian.
“Oh,” Sara said, her eyes downcast at the living room carpet.
“Am I missing something?” Cole asked.
“Later,” Sebastian answered, hurrying to the front door before Hope could come inside.
Sebastian closed the front door behind him and felt the cold breeze on his face. With a forced smile, he asked, “Hope, what are you doing here?”
She shut her car door and made her way around the front of the car to stand in front of her friend. Her nostrils expanded and contracted, as if she were very angry and trying her hardest to control her breathing. “I’ve been waiting for you to call me and tell me something. Anything. Have you heard from him? It’s been three days and I still haven’t heard from him. Something is seriously wrong.”
Sebastian’s eyes shifted back and forth on the grey asphalt of the driveway.
“I’m sure we’ll hear something soon,” he muttered, hating himself for lying to her.
“Is that Mr. Thompson’s car?” Hope asked, pointing at the metallic blue BMW in the driveway.
“Um, yeah. He came to talk to my mom about what happened with me at school,” Sebastian said, unable to make eye contact with her.
“Oh. Well, I want to talk to your mom. I’ve decided to report Jared as a missing person and I thought it might be easier if I just talk to her about it,” Hope said, walking past him toward the front door.
“She’s not home yet!” Sebastian said, turning toward her.
Hope paused and turned back to Sebastian, her eyes narrowed, giving him a suspicious look. “Then why is Mr. Thompson here?”
Scratching the back of his head, Sebastian knew he’d done a fairly decent job of lying to Hope the first time. Now, it felt like there was a lump in his throat. He was tired, his brain hurt, and he couldn’t think of a proper excuse. “He just— um . . .”
“You’ve always been a bad liar.” Then he saw something light up in her eyes. “Is Jared here?”
Before he could stop her she rushed to the front door.
“No, Hope, wait!” Sebastian said trying to catch up to her.
She flung the door open before it occurred to him he should have blinked in front of her. Of course, blinking would not have gone over well, but it might have been easier to e
xplain than what Hope would find inside.
Hope walked into the house and stopped dead in her tracks at what she saw.
“Sara,” she whispered. An eerie controlled calm washed over Hope’s face.
Mr. Thompson sat primly in the recliner. His eyes were wide with surprise and contained quite a bit of guilt as well. He tried to hide his discomfort by taking a sip of his coffee. It was cold, and he grimaced. His slurp broke the silence.
Sebastian came up behind her. He tried to steady his breathing, to stay calm. He was at a loss. What was there to say? How could he explain this?
Hope stood for a moment, just blinking. Silent.
Sara stared back at her. She shrugged her shoulders casually.
The movement seemed to jar Hope into action. “I—I thought. That Jared was —here. And, I . . . I’ve been worried about him so I—”
She swallowed hard. “I—I should go.”
She turned sharply, wringing her hands together, and walked past Sebastian through the still open front door.
With his newfound senses, Sebastian turned and followed her. Her breaths came hard and with a wheeze.
“Hope, wait,” he said, grabbing her shoulder. “I can explain!”
“No,” Hope said, pulling away. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
She reached for her car door, her head shaking back and forth trying to comprehend an impossible situation. Her keys fell from her hand, clattering on the driveway. She bent to retrieve them and stood, one arm on the car hood for support. “I don’t understand. It’s impossible. It’s—”
He stood beside her, not sure if he should touch her or not, not sure what to say. She set her eyes on him, dark green eyes roiling with the storm within her, almost about to cry, but that expression of sadness on her face fell and was quickly replaced by anger.
She breathed in deeply. “Sebastian! What. The. Hell!”