Dark Destiny

by Thomas Grave

  Once Charlotte was done speaking, Sara asked, “So, what happened?”

  “As in, how did I end up here?”

  Sara nodded slightly.

  Dread crept over Charlotte’s face. Sara wondered if she had said something wrong.

  “I’ll show you if you wish,” Charlotte said.

  Somehow, the room’s ambiance shifted. The shadows grew darker, slithering in all directions. For a moment, Sara thought she heard them sliding. Charlotte didn’t react to the change, only gazed at her, worry on her face.

  “Show me? How?” Sara asked carefully.

  “You’ll see. Just remember, whatever you see, I need you to understand it isn’t happening right now. Nothing bad can happen, not anymore. Just stay at this table, okay?”

  “Okay,” Sara said warily.

  Charlotte took a deep breath, motioning toward the living room. “This is my daughter’s apartment. It’s not really my style, but we agreed to house-sit while she was out of town.”

  A soft clicking sound coming from the front door caught Sara’s attention. The lighting around them dimmed, as if they were in a theatre, while the light in the living room grew brighter, like it was the stage. The knob twisted slowly and the door opened, revealing two young men dressed in black. Silently, they crept into the apartment. They had almost identical features: long, thin faces with pointed noses and chins, and shaggy black hair. One wore a beanie pulled low on his forehead. They wore matching hostile expressions.

  Twins.

  Sara’s body went stiff, glued to her chair, heart racing.

  Fiddling nervously with her hands, Charlotte said, “Clearly they were expecting the place to be empty.”

  The two young men came farther into the living room. Sara noticed the one in front had an eyebrow piercing. He put his finger to his lips, signaling the other not to make any noise. Frowning, he pointed to a closed door to the left of the living area.

  “That’s the bedroom he’s pointing to. When Scarlett, my daughter, was gone, she always left all the doors open. She never like closed doors, even as a child. Noah and I often wondered if that was due to all the horror movies we let her watch. Connor, the one with that horrid thing through his eyebrow, knows that. He’s my daughter’s ex,” Charlotte explained.

  “Why are they breaking in?”

  “That, my dear, is a question I have asked myself dozens of times.”

  The bedroom door opened as an elderly man stepped out wearing a white t-shirt and light blue boxers. Though old and half asleep, he had a layer of muscle that came with a lifetime of training and conditioning. A bulldog tattoo on his upper right arm had USMC written beneath it. His hair was the color of snow. This was the person she had seen in her vision.

  “Noah often got up to get a drink of water in the night. You know, it gets very dry, especially in the winter.”

  Noah’s eyes went wide as he caught the intruders. He went from half asleep to fully awake to red with fury in a matter of seconds. The intruders gawked at him, frozen in shock.

  At least ten seconds passed before anyone did or said anything. To Sara, it felt like an eternity.

  “Noah was never one to be bullied,” Charlotte continued. “Did I mention he won many commendations in the Vietnam War?”

  At that same moment, Noah let out a battle cry and charged Connor.

  Connor screamed, “No, wait! Sir! I’m leav—”

  Noah’s fist smashed into his jaw.

  Sara heard a crack.

  Then Noah went low, tackled Connor, lifting him up onto his shoulder and charged forward. Connor’s back collided with a column behind him in a sickening thud. He cried out in pain.

  “I heard the commotion,” said Charlotte. “I came out to see what was going on.”

  Another version of Charlotte, wearing the same nightgown, minus the apron, came out of the bedroom. “Honey, what’s going on?”

  Noah yelled, “Get back in the room and call the cops!”

  Connor’s brother stood frozen, hand covering his mouth. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to react. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small pistol.

  “Everybody! Just stop!”

  But Connor either didn’t hear or didn’t care. He had become a mad man, charging at Noah and slamming his back into the end table.

  “Noah!” screamed Charlotte, her back pressed to the bedroom door, her face a mask of horror. She rushed over, grabbed a purple porcelain vase filled with flowers and smashed it over Connor’s head. It shattered, bits trickling everywhere. Blood poured from the gash on his head, pooling onto the hardwood floor.

  “Connor!” the brother yelled.

  He raised his gun and pointed it at Charlotte. She stared at him, her eyes darting back and forth between the brother and her husband, who struggled to stand. Then the gun went off. The blast echoed off the walls and the ceiling like a sonic boom in the stratosphere.

  Charlotte blinked, as though she had no idea what had made that thunderous bang.

  “No!” Noah yelled, charging at Connor’s brother. They fought with the gun as Charlotte glanced down at her chest. Blood spread out across her nightgown like a fast-growing rose. With disbelieving eyes, she slumped down onto the carpet, a shaky hand over her wound. The hot red liquid seeped between her fingers, as her solid form wavered.

  Then Noah’s image flickered as well, along with Connor and his brother and the gun. Their images faded for a moment in ghostly reflections, and Sara understood that the memory had ended. Just before the images faded completely, she heard a final gunshot.

  Several seconds of silence passed. Sara didn’t move. She didn’t breathe.

  “My God. That was horrible,” she managed.

  Charlotte shrugged. “As life sometimes is, my dear. Or, in my case, death.”

  Sara reached over and placed a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder.

  “What did it feel like for you?” she asked softly.

  “The moment of my passing?”

  “Yes.”

  Charlotte’s eyes went distant. “At first, it was darkness, but I felt like I was there. I’m not sure how to explain it. Let me see, I remember sleeping. Somehow, I was moved to my bed. Then, I heard a knocking. It was soft.

  “I woke to the smell of fresh flowers. Roses. I got up and saw a brilliant light,” said Charlotte, pointing to the front door.

  “That’s where it came from?”

  “Yes. And any fear I had was gone. It was warm, like standing in the sunlight on a clear summer day.”

  Sara gave Charlotte a warm smile.

  “It called out to me, you know,” Charlotte said, “but I couldn’t go. Not until I knew.”

  “Knew what?” asked Sara.

  “What happened to Noah.”

  Wednesday, 2:15 am (Purgatorium)

  Heavy footsteps reverberated throughout the room, echoing in every direction. As Sebastian stared at the floor, the steps grew louder.

  The Reaper’s legs were numb. It took a tremendous amount of effort to get his palm flat against the cold marble floor and do a rather strained push up. Before he could get to his feet, a firm hand grabbed the top of his robes and yanked him upright.

  “Aw, crap,” the Reaper whined.

  Gabriel had picked him up like he was a defenseless kitten. With one hard grab, he took hold of the front of the Reaper’s robes and ripped them off, tossing them onto the derelict floor. Black and purple mist wrapped around the robes as they dissolved. The Angel stared at Sebastian, impassively, devoid of any emotion. Sebastian managed to open one eye to peer at the powerful Angel.

  Gazing through half-blurred vision, they seemed to be in some sort of abandoned bank. A row of teller booths they’d crashed through on their way into the building lay destroyed behind them. On the other side, a circular, heavy metal, vault door stood ajar. Light fixtures hung from the ceiling. One of them flickered annoyingly, bathing portions of the room in darkness.

  More stupid flickering. The last thing he wanted t
o do was go into a seizure.

  “I’m going to take you to the haunt,” said Gabriel slowly, his tone eerily calm. “You’re going to open it. Or else I’m going to break you.”

  Sebastian tried thinking of a snappy comeback, but his exhausted mind wasn’t functioning correctly. “Your . . . breath . . . smells . . . like honeycombs,” Sebastian muttered.

  It wasn’t exactly what he’d wanted to say. His eyelids were heavy and they closed, but he forced them open. Gabriel blurred before him, and he knew he was seconds away from passing out.

  Then, Sebastian saw a figure just beyond Gabriel. A young man. Sebastian’s eyes opened wider when he realized who it was. His deadly twin was back, standing behind Gabriel, angry, his mouth opening and closing, yelling something. No sounds came out.

  “Wh—what?” Sebastian strained his ears to hear.

  Seeing that the Reaper’s gaze was fixed beyond him, Gabriel turned around to investigate, but seeing nothing, he once again faced the panting Reaper, staring down at him with pity.

  “I had thought better of you,” Gabriel said, his tone filled with sadness. “That you would have given me a worthy challenge, pushed me to the brink of my power.” He paused. “I guess I was mistaken.”

  The twin’s angry voice cut in and out, as if through a fraying telephone line. “I said, . . . you pick . . . up and kick his . . .”

  “Too spent,” Sebastian replied weakly.

  Gabriel still stood over Sebastian, obviously confused by the Reaper’s muttering.

  Sebastian’s twin continued to shout, his voice fading in and out, “. . . outrank him! . . . Are . . . Horseman of . . .”

  Shrugging dismissively, Gabriel rolled his eyes.

  Sebastian allowed his eyelids to close. On his face, he felt the Angel’s hot breath and he sensed the Angel’s annoyance.

  “Have it your way,” Gabriel muttered. He reared his fist back for a knockout punch.

  Wednesday, 2:22 am (Purgatorium)

  Sara finished making another turkey sandwich and paused to lean against the kitchen counter. After seeing Noah, she knew what she had to do. She asked, “So you’ve been waiting for him this whole time?”

  “Yes. We were together for so long. Fifty-two years. It wouldn’t feel right leaving without him.”

  “How do you know he’s not waiting in the Light?” asked Sara, putting a handful of chips on the freshly washed yellow plate and adding the newly made sandwich.

  “I’ve thought about that. But what if he’s not?”

  Sara walked back to the table and placed the food in front of Charlotte.

  “Thank you, dear.”

  “You’ve been so kind to me, it’s my pleasure.” Sara took a seat and gazed at the old woman, who picked up one of the chips and nibbled it. Three years she’d been here, just waiting.

  “You’re scared, aren’t you?” Sara said softly. “You’re afraid he won’t be in the Light. I understand, but aren’t you terribly lonely?”

  Charlotte was silent for a moment. “I’ve been alone before. When he was away fighting in Vietnam. I would wait for months, sometimes years.”

  “Do you think this is one of those times?”

  There was a long pause. “I don’t know.”

  “If you could see him right now, what would you tell him?”

  Charlotte sighed, a wistful sound. She smoothed out the already pressed tablecloth with her shaking hand. “I’d tell him how much I’ve missed him. How much I love him. How being with him lit up my world every second of the day. The way his face would melt away all my worries. He was my brave soldier.”

  “I think he passed. I think maybe he went into the Light that night. That’s where he’s been this whole time. He’s waiting for his wife to come home.”

  “You think?” asked Charlotte, turning to Sara. “How could you know that?”

  “When you touched me, I had a vision of somebody. It was Noah. I think, since I have been in the Light, I somehow, have a connection to it. That’s why—how, I know. He is in there.” Sara shifted her gaze to the front door. “All you have to do is ask.”

  Charlotte seemed hesitant, frowning a little. Tears gathered in her eyes.

  An idea came to Sara. She brought her hand up and let it linger inches above Charlotte.

  “May I?” Sara asked.

  Charlotte nodded. Sara placed her hand on top of Charlotte’s head closed her eyes. She concentrated on that memory of Noah, the one she had in the back of her mind. With all her might, she pushed it forward and channeled what she saw into Charlotte’s mind. Something fought her, a vague thought to get her to forget. But she was determined. She cleared her mind and maintained her focus. Noah. Noah. Noah!

  Charlotte gasped. She stood abruptly and took a few steps toward the front door and yelled, “Noah! You come out here right now!” A single tear fell down her cheek. “Because, if you’re in there waiting for me, so help me!”

  Charlotte felt Sara’s hand on her shoulder.

  “So help me . . .” Charlotte repeated. It came out in almost a whisper. A bright light shone through the keyhole. It grew wider and wider, opening into a circular doorway made of light. So bright, Sara squinted her eyes. Clouds seemed to swirl within it.

  “I see him!” Charlotte called out. Tears streamed down her face and she stretched out her hands toward the Light. A thin glow ignited around her hand.

  Placing a hand gently on Charlotte’s shoulder, Sara whispered, “He’s waiting for you. Go to him.”

  Charlotte turned back to Sara with concern in her eyes, “What about you? If I leave, my haunt will dissolve and you’ll be in danger again.”

  Sara brought her close for an embrace and whispered, “Don’t worry about me. This is your time. You go. Be with the one you love.”

  Charlotte pulled Sara in for a tight embrace. “Thank you. For everything.”

  Sara pulled back. “I’ll never forget you,” she whispered, and she felt a tear trickle down her cheek.

  Without another word, Charlotte turned toward the Light and walked into it, her aura visible as bright light bathed her. Sara felt its warmth, like the glow from a fire on a cold day. As Charlotte was halfway into the Light, she stopped and turned back.

  “Somebody wants you to have this,” said Charlotte, lightly tossing something toward Sara.

  Sara caught a snow globe. With questions in her eyes, Sara asked, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  Charlotte disappeared with the Light, leaving only the sound of rushing water as the Purgatorium ripples moved throughout the entire area.

  As soon as Charlotte was gone, the furniture began aging, forming tears and cracks. The hardwood floor slowly rotted directly in front of her. The paint on the walls peeled away, and even the very air she breathed seemed to decay. Shadows grew, stretching in every direction. The haunt was dissolving.

  Tapping came from the window. She turned to see a large, black talon. Tap, tap, tap.

  A creature, masked in shadows, moved in front of the window. Two glowing yellow eyes peered into the room. Jagged white teeth glinted through the glass, and she knew it smiled at her, the most horrifying grin she had ever seen.

  Wednesday, 2:24 am (Purgatorium)

  Gabriel’s hand pulled back, his fingers balled into a fist, when Sebastian’s tired eyes shot open. An endless gust of wind came at him, starting at his feet and blowing upwards. He saw everything. Gabriel’s fist came toward him, moving millimeters per second, his face still beautiful in its fury. Sebastian felt as if he had been struck by lightning. The tiny hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end. It took a second to realize the cause of this new feeling, this power. That revitalized energy he felt when Grayson had left was back.

  A Soul had entered the light.

  Sara had done it.

  His face showed no concern for the incoming fist. Nothing mattered to him in that moment except the raw, vigorous energy roiling in the center of his being. He felt strong. Powerful. Every
part of his body was alive, and more than that, alert.

  Dust particles, like dirty snowflakes, drifted down from the ceiling. A light breeze came in from the broken window to his left.

  Sebastian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Even with his eyes closed, he felt Gabriel turn to look behind him, the heavy force of violence dissipating slowly between them.

  Gabriel whispered, “The haunt is dissolving.”

  For an instant, Sebastian felt the Angel panic. Then the intent of violence returned in force and with every ounce of power he had, Gabriel threw a punch at Sebastian’s face.

  Sebastian caught the Angel’s fist in his hand, absorbing the energy. A thunderclap blew out in all directions. A large gust of wind rushed past Sebastian. The energy expelled from Gabriel’s punch continued its drive, ripping up the ruined flooring and eventually blowing out the entire front of the bank. The windows shattered, the front door destroyed to splinters. Dust spilled out into the street as two small cars flipped over.

  His deadly twin stood just behind Gabriel, but was no longer angry. A slow smile spread across the twin’s face. He whispered, “Kick his ass.”

  Though Gabriel still held Sebastian by his neck, Sebastian nodded at his evil twin. He blinked, gathering momentum, and reappeared back in front of Gabriel but out of his grasp. His position was that of a prize fighter landing a knockout blow, and his newly reformed robes billowed wildly behind him with the force of his movement.

  The punch to Gabriel’s face threw the Angel back, his feet leaving tracks in the marble floor as he strained to stay upright and stop his momentum. His body crashed through the already smashed row of teller booths and collided with the bank vault door, denting the thick metal as he smashed into it. The fortified hinges on the door gave way with a brutal, loud crack. The door collapsed into the vault with a metallic groan and the Angel fell back onto it.

  Gabriel’s jaw tightened as his gaze jerked toward the Reaper. A low growl came from the Angel as his rising fury heated the air around him.