by J. L. Sutton
I wanted to be sure I could live with this path I was on. Whatever happened to the person Dawn was meant to erase tonight was out of my hands, one way or another I had to accept that. All I could do was hope they had a full life and no regrets, though I couldn’t stop myself from picturing the worst. I wanted to hate Dawn, to be afraid of her. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs until I forgot the last month of my life forever.
But I couldn’t. It felt wrong to admit, hell it felt downright monstrous, but in my heart I knew I couldn’t damn her. If life was natural then so was death, it was meant to happen whether we as human beings were ready for it or not. If I read the news tomorrow and there was an obituary for someone I never met would it have bothered me as much? I’d do what almost anyone else would do. I’d think it was sad for a moment, maybe wonder who they were, then move on with my life. She wasn’t a murderer, and I couldn’t let the fact that I knew she was the one holding the scythe scare me off now. I came too far to turn back. I made the decision to find out more about the world I lived in, so I couldn’t blame anyone but myself if I didn’t like the answers I found.
I sat in my car for another ten minutes as I waited for my panic to slowly subside. My breathing began to even out as I unlocked my front door, glad to see Dawn wasn’t waiting for me. I breezed through the apartment, tidying up everything I could get my hands on—busy work always helped me focus. I was straightening the couch so that it squarely faced the TV when I felt Dawn’s presence brush against the back of my mind, and a full twenty seconds passed before I heard her timid knock on my front door. Dawn had hesitated. Taking a deep breath I unlocked the latch, slipped on a brave face, and swung the door open to let her in.
For someone who didn’t need to sleep Dawn looked very tired, but other than that she looked exactly the same as she did an hour ago. Of course she does Hadley. What were you expecting, for her to walk in with blood on her hands?
“Come in,” I said, again surprised by my calm. As Dawn looked up at me a jumble of emotions crossed her face, faster than I could hope to keep up with. Keeping her distance from me she stepped inside, taking a seat in the same spot she had a few nights ago. I felt her eyes on my back as I walked to the kitchen, and remembering my manners I stopped halfway and turned to her. “Can I get you anything?”
“I am fine, thank you,” she said softly, watching my every movement. I grabbed a soda from the fridge and took a seat across from her, turning the cool can in my hands as I thought of something to say. She beat me to it. “You are still quite calm.”
“It surprised me too.”
“If you do not mind me asking, why is that?”
“You know more about this than I ever will,” I said, trying to find the best way to explain my logic. “You also told me it’s not your place to judge. If you don’t even decide, then what right do I have to judge you for what you do?”
“Perhaps you are more equipped to deal with this than I thought.”
“So does that mean you will show me what you meant about you being dangerous?” I asked hopefully. Now that I was committed to knowing everything, it seemed like something I should probably know—just in case we were going to be spending more time with together in the future. It never hurt to be prepared.
“People’s fates dictate when they die. That is how I know when to take them, down to the second.” Dawn’s voice was pained as she spoke, and I guessed she definitely didn’t want to be telling me this. “I am not tied to fate like you are, so by definition anything I do around you was not supposed to happen. I would never want to hurt you, but I still could by accident. I could even kill you if I am not careful.”
“How would it happen though? It’s not as if you’re going three rounds with me.”
She didn’t answer—at least, not in any way I was expecting.
Two things happened at once. Dawn became a blur for about a second before her outline settled back into place, and the can I was holding was no longer in my hand—it was in Dawn’s.
I bit back a curse. Nothing natural should be able to move so quickly. For a moment I thought she was going to crush the can as a reminder of her physical strength. Instead she held it for a moment, then opened the can and turned it upside down. Nothing happened. With slow, exaggerated movements she put the can down on the coffee table, gesturing for me to pick it up. I blinked twice before remembering how to control my body. I reached down, and as my fingers brushed the edges of the metal I recoiled, knocking the can on its side. The liquid inside was frozen solid.
“That’s not right.” I wasn’t sure why I mumbled that. I wasn’t even sure it was me who said the words.
“My body leeches the heat from everything around me. If I am not in near perfect control of myself every second I am around you, just my touch could kill you,” she spoke calmly, her sweet voice making the words sound that much more menacing. I swallowed involuntarily as I remembered her flinching away from me. Now I knew why. I also felt how cold my apartment suddenly was. With the adrenaline constantly in my system when I was around Dawn, I hadn’t noticed it before. It was always cold around her, unnaturally cold. Dawn’s gaze drifted to my fingers absently scratching the phantom itch on my shoulder that never seemed to leave me. “That was my fault too.”
“I’ve been wondering how I got this,” I said when I was sure the words wouldn’t come out as gibberish. I couldn’t remember much of what happened when the blows started coming, but I would never forget the scorching pain burning across my skin.
“It should never have happened. I should have been in control of my emotions. Now you will have that scar for the rest of your life.” She sounded wretched—nothing I could say right now would make her feel worse than she was making herself. “Let me see how much damage I did.” Dawn stood slowly, taking a measured step towards me while I rolled up my sleeve. As the edges of the ruined flesh became visible a gasp escaped her lips. “I am so sorry.”
I shrugged indifferently. It wasn’t my first scar, and knowing my luck it wouldn’t be the last. “It would’ve been a lot worse if it wasn’t for you.”
“Please stop trying to make me feel better.”
“It’s the truth, whether you like it or not. If you really feel bad about it tell your friend to buy me a new plant. I really liked that one.” I even managed a small chuckle. She had to believe I meant it if I could make a joke out of her injuring me.
“My friend?” she asked, her expression becoming puzzled.
“The one who broke into my office for you. The blond.”
“I forgot about that.” Dawn sighed, looking guilty as sin. “It was me.”
Now it was my turn to look puzzled. That couldn’t have been Dawn. I turned her words over in my head twice before I admitted defeat. “I don’t understand.”
Dawn fidgeted nervously with her braid before looking at me, the same expression she wore when she asked me not to freak out. She closed her eyes, and her whole body began to vibrate.
My jaw dropped as I watched Dawn grow taller, her shoulders and hips broaden, and her chest flesh out right before my eyes. Her skin glowed faintly before taking on a darker shade, at the same time as her hair began to lighten from root to tip. The skin on her face slackened around the bones, and as it tightened up again it held a new shape that wasn’t her face anymore. It took less than ten seconds, but when her body finally stopped moving she was no longer Dawn—she was the blond from the security tapes. The only thing that hadn’t changed on the stranger now standing in my living room were her eyes, they still looked exactly like Dawn’s.
For a moment it was so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat. Then blond stranger smiled at me before she began to vibrate, and a few seconds later Dawn was herself again.
I don’t remember sitting back on the couch, but I was grateful that it was so close—I don’t think my legs could support my weight right now. Dawn slowly took a seat, not saying a word while she politely waited for me to recover.
“You’re a shap
eshifter too?” I asked, my voice wavering. There was no other way of putting it. She nodded, her eyes alight with humor. Now that she wasn’t as worried about me running and screaming, I think the real Dawn was beginning to surface—apparently along with a whole bunch of other people too. “You can be anyone you want?”
“I do not actually become the person, just look and sound exactly like them. And not anyone. Only women, and only the ones I have . . . taken.”
“Why only women?” I asked curiously, not wanting to think about the fact that she could pose as the dead.
“Because I am female,” she said simply, like it was an adequate explanation.
Dawn wasn’t kidding when she said she was deceptive by nature, as if the ability to disappear wasn’t enough. A stray thought crossed my mind then, and without thinking it slipped off my tongue.
“That isn’t what you really look like, is it.” It wasn’t a question—I already knew the answer. I couldn’t explain how I knew, but I was absolutely sure.
“No. And while we are being honest my name is not Dawn either.” To her credit Dawn didn’t even flinch, she just smiled. “In my defense, I never said it was my name, I said it is what you should call me.”
“Why?” The first time I saw her that’s what she looked like, so she stuck with it. I could understand that logic. But she told me to call her Dawn before I knew what she was, why not tell me her real name? It wasn’t exactly truthful, but as far as I could tell she never lied to me about anything else.
“There is a very good reason for that particular deception, and I will tell you about it sometime, but not tonight. Right now I am a little concerned any more revelations might just give you a heart attack.”
11. Glass confessions
“You wouldn’t,” I begged, “please, have mercy.”
She frowned at the pleading look on my face as she traced her bottom lip with her finger, the way she always did when she was thinking. Her other hand hovered over the table, taunting me as her fingers drew nearer to the object that would inevitably destroy me. I knew all hope was gone when she smiled.
Lisa stuck out her tongue as she took my last three checkers on the board. “Hop. Hop. Hop.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Six times in a row.”
She giggled excitedly, and once again began stacking the pieces on top of each other. Lisa’s time inside these walls changed her in many ways, but when it came to board games she still crushed me like clockwork. On lucid days like these, when I got the chance to see her smile, I was more than happy to let her.
“Again?” she asked, her gentle eyes looking up at me hopefully. Geez sis, wasn’t I thoroughly beaten already? I needed to get a new game, one I actually had a chance of winning.
“One more.” I smiled warmly. It was impossible to say no to her.
I really missed Lisa these past few days. With all the madness that came with Dawn, I needed this—a return to the madness I was used to, the madness I knew more or less how to deal with. Noting how much my lil’ sis rubbed off on me over the years I laughed quietly to myself. There was something about Lisa’s childlike view of the world that helped me put things into perspective.
I felt a little useless lately, and spending any amount of time with Death had a way of making everything else feel less . . . consequential. It was a few days since I saw Dawn, but I began to notice an anxious edge to my thoughts. Was she avoiding me? Part of me worried that my near obsessive interest in her was anything but healthy, and it was difficult to disagree with. I wasn’t even sure why I found everything about her so captivating, even the darker side of what she did, although it did make me cringe from time to time. She even took a starring role in a few of my nightmares, somewhere I was willing to bet money Dawn thought she belonged, but they were more on the trippy and confusing edge than truly frightening.
I wasn’t very busy these days, but it annoyed me a little that she got to dictate the terms of when and where we met. I was hoping we were now on more amicable terms, that maybe we could even be friends, after a fashion. All this time left to myself wasn’t helping the situation either, it only left me with more unanswered questions. Dawn seemed to be of two minds. One was the guarded, analytically cold Dawn trying to keep to the shadows. The other was the one that smiled, the one who showed a broader range of emotional responses. It would be interesting to meet another seraph and compare the differences. Did all of them act exactly like her, or was what I saw just part of who she was?
When it became clear I would lose for a seventh time I threw my hands up in defeat. “I’m going to have to start cheating.”
It was just after two when I said goodbye to my sister, though she was so engrossed in her new square of bubble wrap I wasn’t sure she was fully aware I was leaving. If only it was always this easy. I was in a pretty good mood as I wandered through the aging building, so much so I didn’t even mind the biting smell of ammonia that usually gave me a massive headache. The sun was beginning to break through the wispy clouds that refused to let up—some warmth would be a nice change from the dreary weather we were having lately. It had rained on and off for three days now, making the already crisp autumn winds feel like walking into an industrial freezer. Dawn would probably feel right at home. As I walked briskly to the car I rubbed my hands together to fight off the chill, only looking up when I was right next to the door. Almost as if just thinking her name summoned her, Dawn sat with her legs crossed on the hood of my car, watching me intently.
“Benjamin.” She smiled, sliding to her feet gracefully. That was the first time she ever used my name. Something about the simple gesture made me feel a little more at ease.
“Afternoon,” I half mumbled, momentarily thrown off by her greeting. “How did you know where to find me?”
Dawn only smiled wider. “I have my methods.”
Sure, that wasn’t creepy at all. “Been wondering when I’d see you again.”
“I should not even be spending time with you to begin with,” she said absently, her gaze towards the clouds.
“And why not?”
“You mean, besides the fact that I could kill you?” Dawn raised her eyebrow, the sarcasm sounding off in her lovely voice. “Or that every second I am around could irreparably alter your future? Oh, no reason at all.”
“You worry too much.” I shrugged, knowing she wouldn’t like it. “I can take care of myself.”
She frowned. “That, is doubtful.”
If she was so concerned, then why did she keep showing up? It was a question I’d really love an answer to, though it seemed like one of the topics she desperately wanted to avoid. This back and forth with her was draining.
I didn’t see any other cars in the lot—come to think of it, she never seemed to have any form of transportation. Had she really travelled all these miles on foot? Knowing how fast Dawn could move I didn’t doubt it, but she hardly looked like she just ran a marathon. I shrugged off the train of thought, and sensing victory I decided to steer the conversation in a different direction.
“I was just about to head back into the city. Got a few errands I have to run along the way, but I’d like it if you joined me.” The idea of having her in the car with me seemed like a good plan. It would be difficult for her to disappear while we were driving.
“Sure.” She sighed softly, not bothering to ask where we were going, or how long it would take. Why couldn’t she always be this agreeable? Dawn walked around to the passenger side, muttering under her breath in what sounded like Latin. Her irritated expression reminded me of a feral kitten.
She closed the door behind her, but instead of sitting normally she pressed her back against the door, pulling her feet up to her knees so she was facing me. Odd, but it was far from the strangest thing I saw her do. As we pulled onto the road I kept peeking to see if she was still upset with me, but to my surprise she was once again smiling. “Something funny?”
“You willingly invite me into your car, knowing full well I am qu
ite possibly the most dangerous thing in a hundred mile radius, and that does not make you hesitate for one second. Yet you feel the need to wear a seat belt.” The musical laughter that followed was another first.
I was so stunned to find she actually possessed a sense of humor that it took me far longer than it should’ve to respond. “I guess you would know whether or not I’d need it before I did.”
“True,” she said, still smiling. Almost two miles disappeared under the tires in a surprisingly comfortable silence before she spoke again. “Who were you visiting in there?”
“Not much of a stalker, are you?” I teased. “My younger sister, Lisa.”
“And you two are close?”
“Very, I try to see her whenever I can. We practically raised each other.” I smiled, remembering the Thursday afternoon I taught Lisa to throw a punch, her limitless patience with me when I kept messing up the laundry. Many bleached shirts were sacrificed before I got that one down.
Dawn nodded thoughtfully, like she received the answer she was expecting. “Did you grow up here?”
“I’ve always lived in the city. What’s with the twenty questions?”
Confusion crossed her features. “You ask me questions all the time, am I not allowed the same courtesy?”
“I don’t mind,” I said quickly. “I just don’t see why something like that would be interesting to you.”
“I am around humans all day, but it has been a long time since I paid this much attention to a specific one. You are not the only one who gets curious,” she said quietly, looking a little embarrassed.
I smiled. “Then ask away.”
Dawn kept up a steady stream of questioning as I drove lazily back to the city, in no rush to be anywhere but where I was now. When I wasn’t constantly bringing it up it was almost easy to forget that she was so far removed from anything I ever knew. If it wasn’t for her reaction to our close proximity I could almost pretend she was normal. She tried to be subtle about it, but it was impossible to miss the fact that every time I leaned towards her on a turn, or my hand moved to change gears her whole body became rigid. The first time she actually recoiled.