childhood.”
Alma rose from her seat, expressionless. She stared straight ahead and took a deep breath in. Her soprano echoed through the church as she began her haunting, slow ballad.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Shannon demanded, articulating as best she could through her locked jaw. “What are you doing?”
He winked at her, smirking as the wisps encircled Martha entirely. As Alma picked up the tempo, Martha's body began to fade into the smoke. Shannon watched helplessly as the wisps moved through Martha's opaque figure, absorbing her entirely until only the mist was left. The man pointed his finger in a sweeping motion upward, and the smoke followed, dancing and swimming out through the holes in the ceiling as Alma hit the final note of her song.
“That'll be enough, Alma.”
The woman sat down without a word, her eyes still glazed over and empty.
“I'll bet that stung, Benjamin,” he said. “I know you were fond of the laundress. Seeing her every day as you left your house. Must be hard to watch her disappear into the ether. There's nothing left of her, you know. She's become one with this world. How does that make you feel?”
Ben managed to slowly curl his hands into fists, but their captor didn't seem to notice.
“Speechless? I'm so surprised,” the man sauntered over to Alma and took a seat next to her. “She has a gorgeous voice.”
“Leave,” Ben's voice shook with fury and sorrow.
“I think I'll pass,” he said it in the same way as someone who might decline sugar in their coffee. “This Alma. She's been a great comfort to you throughout the years. I've seen her get you through your darkest days, whether she knew it or not.”
“Get away from her,” Ben growled.
“Her real name is Jane. She seems so saintly and composed here,” the man brushed her bangs out of her face. “Would you believe she was a whore in life? A churchgoing whore, but a whore nonetheless. My superiors thought she deserved to be damned, but I saved her.”
“So, what, now you think she deserves to be consumed?” Shannon asked.
The man toyed with his boutonniere again, and the mists swept downward from the ceiling. “Ends. Means. You need to learn your place.”
“Then destroy me instead!” Ben said.
“You're missing the point,” the man laughed. “This whole, little town is about you. That's how I designed it! Some of these people were fully cognizant before you died. Sometimes I see a spark in a soul and I – I can't help myself but reap it and give it its own little world. Ben, you've got that spark. Don't you see it?”
“You're insane,” Shannon glowered.
The mists began circling Jane. Shannon tried to move, but the more she strained her muscles, the more difficult it became.
“Why don't you sing us another pretty song, Jane? Make it something I love.”
She took a deep breath in.
There were twa sisters sat in a bower,
Binnorie, O Binnorie.
There came a knight to be their wooer
By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie.
The mists twirled and danced around Jane until they covered her completely. Still, her voice boomed through the church as the man closed his eyes and joined her song, his thick, rich voice harmonizing with hers.
He courted the eldest with glove and ring,
Binnorie, O Binnorie.
But he loved the youngest aboon a' thing
By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie.
Ben suddenly leaped forward and tackled the man. They fell backward, breaking the dry-rotted pews as they tumbled to the ground in a cloud of splinters and dust. The mist that encircled Jane suddenly dissipated. She jumped up and spun around as Ben wrenched the boutonniere from their captor's jacket. Shannon fell forward as the man's grip was released.
“No!” he scrambled to his feet.
Ben held the boutonniere in his palm, ready to crumple it in a moment. “I knew it.”
“Don't. Don't crush it,” he begged.
“Why not?” Ben rolled it between his thumb and middle finger. “Step back.”
The man stumbled, the color draining from his skin and clothes until he looked as drab as they did. “Okay. Fine. Stepping back. Just listen to me. You don't want to crush that.”
“I just watched you destroy a soul,” Ben scowled. “You've destroyed almost a hundred today. Give me one good reason I shouldn't smash it under my foot.”
“If you do that, this entire world will disappear,” he said quickly. “I'm serious. We'll all fade into nothingness.”
“You're just saying that so I give it back to you.”
“Maybe I am,” he admitted. “But if I'm not, just think about it. Do you really want to end up like the laundress?”
“Get us out of here,” Ben demanded. “All of us.”
“I can't,” said the man. “Not without my rose.”
“You're not getting it back.”
“Yeah, I'd gathered as much; thank you,” he spat. “It seems we're at an impasse.”
“Tell me how to use it,” said Ben. “Impasse solved.”
“You can't use it. You'd have to destroy my soul, and if you do that, you'll never get out of here.”
The eerie morning light began to peer through the windows. But that was impossible. It hadn't been more than an hour or two since they'd barricaded themselves in the church.
“See what happens when I don't have it?” the man looked around. “This world becomes unstable! You have no idea the power you hold.”
“You're destroying the people I care about,” Ben dismissed him. “I'll take bedlam over that any day. Now sit down and put your hands behind your back. I want to make sure you can't hurt anyone else.”
“What? I –”
“Sit. Down,” Ben repeated. “Alma – er, Jane – could I have your scarf?”
“It's okay,” Monica said soothingly, and Jane reluctantly removed the light shawl from around her head.
“Care to do the honors, Shannon?”
Shannon took the scarf and knelt down to their captive's level. Pulling his hands tightly together, she pressed them against the leg of the pew and wrapped the scarf around his wrists.
“So this is how you like it?” he whispered.
Shannon pushed him hard in the back and got to her feet.
“What's your name?” Ben squeezed the flower gently.
“Donn – I'm Donn. Now stop it!”
“What are you?”
“Do you have a few lifetimes?”
“Don't be cryptic; answer the question!” Shannon ordered.
“Getting short with me now that I'm all tied up, love?” he grinned. “If you must know, I'm a reaper. Or at least... I was.”
“Like the Grim Reaper?” Monica asked. “I knew it!”
“Oh, please. That guy? He was ridiculous,” Donn scoffed. “They sacked him after a few centuries. Flashy. Overrated. Terrible at his job. Scaring people with that stupid cloak and sickle. Most of us are far less terrifying. A handsome face and a little charm gets you a lot further when it comes to collecting the dead.”
Shannon rolled her eyes. “You must be their golden boy.”
“I was,” Donn reminisced. “For thousands of years. But I didn't always agree with upper management's decisions. Take Jane here. She was destined for what you humans call hell. Why? Because she had a child out of wedlock, and the only way she could support him was through prostitution. How is that fair? It's because of these awful decisions that I went rogue. I created this world and reaped souls as I chose.
“But running my own afterlife was harder than I thought it would be. As well-intentioned as I am, sometimes souls rebel. Sometimes I need to put them in their place.”
“You're not a god,” Ben said.
Donn shrugged. “People once worshiped me as one. That's good enough.”
“Gods aren't dismantled when you tak
e a droopy flower off their coats,” Shannon said. “Now you're no different than any of us.”
“Don't flatter yourself,” Donn sneered. “You think Ben's old? I've got thousands of years on all of you. I'm neolithic. I've been dead for so long that I've faded into myth.”
“Congrats on being born forever ago,” Shannon said dismissively. “Don't really care.”
“Say what you will. Do what you will,” Donn conceded. He didn't so much as pull against the scarf. “Only I can use that rose. Who knows what'll happen to this world when I'm not controlling it? On one hand, you might finally be able to break free of the town border! Freedom, Ben! Isn't that what you've always wanted? Isn't that what you yearn for in your journals? Of course, night could fall at any moment and you could be swept up into the ether. Fires could catch for no apparent reason. This whole little world I've constructed could fade out of existence. But go ahead. Hang onto that wilting flower. Threaten to crush it. There are only millions of souls at stake.”
“My God, you like to hear yourself talk,” Monica plopped back down on one of the pews and propped her feet up on the back of the one in front of her. “Can we continue this later and figure out what we're going to do right now? We've got a really confused woman here, and not to mention a little girl who needs our help!”
“I'm twelve; I'm not little,” Helen mumbled.
“You know, Helen, I rarely take two people from the same family,” Donn pondered. “But twins dying in the same accident? It was just poetic. I –”
“Shut up!” Monica and Ben shouted in unison.
“Can't we gag him?” asked Shannon.
“So that is how you like it...” Donn smiled wryly.
Shannon grabbed a scarf from one of the women in the room and tied it around
Awakening: Part 2 of the Hinterlands Series Page 5