“You made him what he is.”
“No, the Council made him what he is. The Council, and their precious Helio. For a Witch, he was very proper. Didn’t like him.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, staring at the rusted swing set on the far left of the yard. It probably hadn’t seen much use in decades. Weeds sprouted in the grass around it, growing against its metal poles. Left and forgotten, abandoned. “Do you…” I spoke quietly, “Do you miss them?”
I didn’t have to clarify who they were. Crixis knew right away.
Beside me, his jaw set, muscles in his forehead tightening. His light eyes clouded over, and for a minute, we sat in silence. It was an incredibly intimate question, but with everything between Crixis and I, formalities and intimacies didn’t matter.
“If I say no, I would be a liar. If I say yes, I would seem far more caring than what I am.” Crixis scowled. “The truth, Purifier, is that I do not think of them. When faced with eternity, the past is something you cannot dwell on.”
I didn’t know what I expected from him. Did I want him to admit that he missed his family? Would that make it okay for me to be here, with him, while Gabriel fought for his life in the hospital? Maybe. Or maybe not.
Maybe I was just grasping at straws.
“I don’t think I could ever be like that,” I finally said. “I think our pasts are what make us who we are. If we turn our backs on it, what does that make us?” I looked at him again. “My past is not great, thanks to you, a lot of it, but I’d never forget it.” His green eyes dared me to say the final bit, so I did, vehemently: “I’m not that weak.”
He glowered. “You believe me weak because I prefer not to reminisce about my wife and child who were slaughtered like animals? Do not say things to simply rile me up.”
Standing, I moved away from him, heading to the rusted swing set that looked as lonely as I felt. “I’m not saying it to rile you up.” I sat on the old swing, hands clinging to the chains covered in plastic. The plastic covering was old and red, cracked in places due to age and weathering. Still, the thing was sturdy. “I’m saying it because that’s what I think,” I added, once Crixis followed me.
He leaned on the wooden part where the slide was attached, folding his arms across his chest. “You’ve seen a lot of battle and death, but the only thing that could possibly compare to my loss—” Crixis paused. “—would be for you to lose Gabriel.”
“Well, keep holding that breath, because at this rate, it’s going to happen.” I mentally winced. Why the heck would I go and say something like that?
“Your cynical attitude is wasted. The boy will wake. His soul is too strong.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“I don’t think so, I know it.”
I looked at him then, wondering something. “Can you feel it?” When he did nothing but stare blankly at me, I clarified: “Can you feel his…soul?” If he was like the other-world Gabriel, shouldn’t all Demons shrink and bow and cower in his presence?
“In the beginning, no. Years ago, I believed him to be just another Purifier. Until recently, I still held that to be true. But after Sephira snapped that little neck of yours, something inside of him woke. I felt it, then.”
My death is the catalyst for the end of the world. How stupid. One life shouldn’t matter that much.
I was slow to ask, “What did you feel?”
“Confusion, awe, and for the first time in millennia, fear. Even Vexillion felt it. It is difficult to explain to someone who doesn’t feel it. Impossible, really. It’s a primal thing, instinct. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I think I’m old enough to grasp what instincts are.” I rolled my eyes.
“Enough talk,” Crixis growled. “Let us train.” He started to walk back to the house, and I was on his heel in a second. We walked through the kitchen, past Maurice in the living room, remote in hand, and up the stairs.
As we crawled into the attic, I hesitantly asked, “What makes me so special? Why would losing me make Gabriel snap and become that thing?”
That thing. I couldn’t even say it.
Crixis stopped in his tracks, giving me a long view of his back as he whispered, “I have wondered that myself.” He turned to me, studying me like a scientist would a new species, like something he’d never seen before. “Have you displayed any other powers? Other than your visions.”
“Besides that and popping up from the dead like a daisy, no.”
“Koath was human.”
I glared at him as images pushed into my head, forcing themselves to the forefront, so that I could remember the gruesome scene Crixis had left for me in our house. All the blood. The vacant stare. The shredded neck.
As if sensing that my hatred for him was growing, he quickly said, “I say it because then, logically, you must get your uniqueness from your mother’s side.”
“And what would you know about that, hmm?” I baited him, waiting for him to tell me that he killed her too, something I always suspected but never knew for sure.
Crixis answered me by pointing to the beam, the same beam that gave my fingers blisters and my arm muscles a sore tenderness. “I’ll answer you after your training.”
It was hard to stop myself from rolling my eyes yet again. As I leapt to the beam and positioned myself the same way as yesterday—and I already felt the burning begin in my hands and arms—I asked, “Why do you want to train me, again?”
“Shut that talkative mouth of yours and focus,” he hissed, flashing away. When he returned, he held a book in his hands. And it wasn’t a picture book. If he thought I’d last anywhere as long as I did yesterday, he had another thing coming.
I’d be lucky if I lasted a chapter into that book. And, judging from the thickness of it, it had a lot of chapters.
Great.
Chapter Twenty – Liz
Michael was back at the hospital.
I shouldn’t have expected anything different. Gabriel was his first charge, his first Purifier, and for him to be slowly taken away due to some unforeseen medical emergency? There was nothing he could’ve done to prepare for it. Although, as the Council always said, death was necessary. Death was final. Death was unavoidable. It was a part of the Guardian-Purifier relationship. Guardians always outlived their charges.
A sad truth, but a truth nonetheless.
Michael should’ve prepared for this. Purifier rarely lived past their teens. A hazard of their duty.
I used to be one for the Council, but now, watching Michael unravel, taking care of Max and trying to take care of Kass, I started to wonder if the Council was wrong, even just by a little. Were they wrong to force these kids to fight? Were they wrong to make them soldiers of goodness and God, with no choice of their own, and force them to forgo their futures? Who knew? Any Purifier could’ve grown up to be the next president or win the Nobel Peace Prize. A Purifier like Max could’ve discovered the cure for cancer, or any other number of diseases.
Was it right?
In the past, I wouldn’t have hesitated. I would’ve said yes and declared the reasons why. Someone had to do it, and the best way to make soldiers was to start them young.
But wasn’t starting them young sort of like indoctrination?
Sighing, I set my head on my hands, hunched over at the kitchen table.
In the room adjacent to me, Max and Claire sat, talking about school, how it started again in two days. Both were intelligent kids; both were excited to get to their classes again, even though Max had learned most, if not all, of the stuff before.
And that was yet another thing this town had going for it. A Skinwalker. A Skinwalker in the most literal of sense. It could be anyone by now, though no more bodies were found after the victim in the school. It could wear any face, be any gender, look and talk and sound just like the flesh it wore.
Skinwalkers were a nasty species. They were hideous, deformed parasites, jumping into the bodies of any animal. Mammals were their favorite, due to their s
ize. The bigger the prey, the longer it could stay inside, the more it could devour before tearing out of its skin-cage and finding another body to consume.
Skinwalkers as a whole were listed on the Council’s extinct list, stated as no longer a threat to public safety and the welfare of mankind.
Clearly, at least one was missed. I couldn’t help but wonder if any of the other Demons on their extinction list were also alive and thriving. If there’s one Skinwalker, there might have been others.
There were quadruple the amount of Council Agents here, after the ordeal with Crixis and Koath. They assimilated into the town, taking jobs like the second shift janitor at the high school and the principal’s position. I could admit, I couldn’t get rid of the position fast enough. Being the principal in this city was like asking for trouble.
I should do something, I decided, since the wait for the Skinwalker wasn’t going anywhere. If there hadn’t been any new bodies found, odds were that the Skinwalker was still in the body it jumped into. It was probably another student.
I stood. I needed to get out of this town. I loved Michael, but I knew I couldn’t stay here. It was too much. I missed my desk and my paperwork, my orderliness and organization.
That’s what I could do. I could clean.
Within fifteen minutes, the kitchen was spotless, and I was aching for more to do. Michael never seemed to make his bed or dust his furniture, so I grabbed the duster and the Pledge and made my way to the stairs. I was only five stairs up when I overheard Claire and Max.
“There’s a bookstore in the square,” Max said. “Have you ever been to it?”
“Yeah. A few times. They don’t really have any new releases, but they have a lot of older books that you can’t find anywhere else,” Claire said.
I leaned against the wall, clutching my cleaning supplies to my chest, needing to hear how this went. The girl was a Demon, but Morphers were one of the lowest on the Council’s radar. They usually kept to themselves and didn’t cause problems.
Though, if the Council had their way, earth wouldn’t have any Demons, and that made me stumble, too, now. Claire wasn’t a bad person. She was athletic, smart, and nice. I knew Max would be in good hands if they became a couple.
Maybe I just needed to hear some happy news amongst all that went on around here.
“Would you…I mean, do you want to go tonight?” Max stumbled over his words a bit, but he got it out there. I could imagine his face: flushed, red, eyes darting beneath his glasses. He’s a sweet kid.
It was a few seconds until Claire whispered a surprised, “Yes. I’d love to. I love books.”
“Me too.”
As they went back and forth, I smiled to myself and resumed walking up the stairs as quietly as I could. Didn’t want the kids knowing I was eavesdropping on their conversation. Max would tell me soon enough. I doubt he’d ever went on a date before. Guardians were instructed to tell their charges that dating was off-limits, but it was more of a guideline than a rule. After all, they were teenagers. They had the worst hormones of them all.
As long as it didn’t interfere with his duties, I was completely fine with Max dating, even if he was dating a Morpher, something I wouldn’t have thought weeks ago.
I went straight to Michael’s room, setting the spray and duster down before tugging the sheets and making the bed. I mechanically went through his room, dusting off his nightstand and dresser, deciding the wooden floors also need to be swept. My feet take me to the closet, and I start picking up the clothes he’d thrown on the floor. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was a child, with his living habits.
I guessed I could forgive him, though, with what was happening with Gabriel.
My arms were full of clothes by the time I noticed an engraved chest on the floor in the closet. A deja vu moment swept over me, and I recalled finding Koath’s computer tucked away in this same room. When I asked him about it, he said he was trying to restore the laptop for Kass.
Its design triggered something in me, and I fell to my knees, carefully setting the pile of clothes to the side as I crawled closer to the chest. I pulled it out, into the daylight, running a hand over its design.
A cross, but each side was the same length.
“Where have I seen you before?” I muttered, fingers drawing down its front, finding a metal lock firmly keeping it closed. My brows came together. What would Michael need with a locked chest? It wasn’t like Kass and Gabriel were the type to snoop, and they were handier around weapons than Michael was.
Waves of confusion erupted in my stomach, and I quickly pushed the chest back in the closet and hurriedly picked up the clothes. I’d do my best not to think about it. I trusted Michael. I’d known him for years. Whatever he had locked in that chest, he must have had a reason.
I was about to leave the room to start a load of laundry when I nearly smacked right into Max. He pushed up his glasses as he readjusted himself, and I asked, “Did Claire leave?”
He nodded.
I waited for him to say more, because I knew there was more. Because I was so darned nosy.
A minute passed before he said in a rush, “I think I have a date tonight. She said she’s picking me up at eight.” Beneath his huge glasses, his eyes were wide. “What do I wear? Does Michael have cologne I could use? I hate contacts, but I do have a pair. Should I—”
I would set a hand on his shoulder, but my hands were full with clothes. I simply said, “Max. Just breathe. You’ll be fine. You hang out with Claire all the time, right? You wear what you normally wear. There’s no need for you to put contacts in. And as for Michael’s cologne, you definitely don’t need to wear cologne.” I gave him my best smile. “Everything will be fine. I promise.”
I promise? I couldn’t promise such a thing.
I couldn’t make any promises. It’s why I never promised Michael that I’d stay. This time, he knew enough to not ask me it. Last time, though, he didn’t know it, and when he asked me, I hated the look on his face when I told him that I’d never leave my position for a man.
The Council was my life, even if I occasionally doubted them.
Chapter Twenty-One – Crixis
The gall.
The audacity.
The hard-headedness.
I still couldn’t believe Kass told me I was weak for choosing to not think about them. It was so long ago—what would she know about it? She might see things in her visions, but she did not know them. She didn’t feel their loss inside her bones. They were not her burdens to bear.
They were mine.
I lived my life how I wanted. I killed when I wanted. They…they would not recognize me today, civilization and modern advances aside. I was not the father they knew, nor the husband they knew. I wasn’t even the same fighter. I reveled in blood and mayhem. I tortured and maimed just because. They would not recognize me, because I was not a man. I was a Demon, a monster, wearing the face of a man they once knew.
Kass had no idea how time could change you. She was still so young. Until the day she outlived everyone she knew, until the day she saw the rise and fall of entire civilizations and watched societies grow and decay, she’d never understand. It was incomprehensible, unless you lived through it.
I read through the classic tale of a black horse and a boy caught on an island, pausing to glance up at her every now and then. It wasn’t long before her arms started to shake and her expression darkened. It would be next to impossible for her to last as long as she did yesterday, I knew, but I wanted to push her as far as she could go.
There was a time not so long ago when I wanted to break her. Now—what was I? The new and improved Raphael? I guarded the girl, in hopes that when he woke, he didn’t decide to kill me? Was that what I was reduced to in the face of a soul as old and powerful as Gabriel’s?
Gabriel.
That might’ve been his name, but it was not his original name. He was as old as the rest of them, his soul older than mine, older than Vexillion. He was
capable of much bigger destruction than me. I’d like to think that I rather enjoyed the world. I didn’t want it to end. Without the world, there was no fun, no food. Nothing. What kind of creature would want to destroy existence itself?
The boy might’ve started out as human. Perhaps he was a normal boy who just was unlucky enough to get to house an ancient soul. Maybe he didn’t have parents. Maybe the man upstairs just sent him to earth for another chance. That was ridiculous in and of itself, because not everyone deserved a second chance. He didn’t.
I didn’t.
I didn’t want one.
I didn’t need one. Second chances were useless. They couldn’t change anything. What was done was done and there was no going back, second chance or not. The past was one thing that could not be changed.
When Kass’s arms finally gave out, and she tumbled to the attic floor, I closed my book and got to my feet. I’d barely set the book down before I barreled toward her, faster than a human, but slower than my Vampiric speed. And we fought.
Well, mostly I fought. She did a lot of dodging and rolling, due to the small fact that she could barely hold her arms up. And when she did—each time, I couldn’t help it, I laughed. It was an amusing sight, seeing her so worn-out from such a simple task.
It made the fighting boring.
I let her catch her breath, saying snidely, “What is with you? So tired already?”
Kass straightened her back, staring hard at the wall next to her. She frowned, shaking her head. “I…I don’t know. I’m just worn out, I guess.” She made a disgusted face at herself, like she was disappointed in herself.
I couldn’t blame her. We’d barely started fighting.
“I need water. Fetch me some, David.” She waved her hand dismissively.
I bared my teeth but played the part. When I came back with a bottle of cool water, I tossed it at her; she barely caught it. “Your reaction time needs work.”
Kass sent me a glare before swigging half the bottle down. “Tell me about my mother.” She slouched against a beam, sliding to sit. “I’ve seen her, in some of my visions. Before Sephira, she kept telling me I was going to die.” She chuckled, though her mirth was far from genuine. “It got old.”
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