Dark Destiny (10 page)

Though everything was dark and strange, this place
—
this horrifying, terrible place
—
felt natural to him. Somewhere inside him, he understood that he was from here, born of this land. The familiarity of this place crept through his body, filling him with the warmth of home. If he had a couch in his room, the temptation would be to settle back, kick up his feet and turn on the TV.

The robes dissolved into purple and black vapor that glided over to Sebastian’s bed like a mass of writhing, intelligent snakes. There, hovering over his duvet, the vapor reformed, becoming solid, turning
back
into the Book.

The mist left him once again in his regular clothing. Then, a mysterious ripple was expelled from the binding and the sound of crashing waves echoed off the walls. His bedroom returned to normal, no longer dark and gloomy with cracked mirror and sagging floor, but bright and warm. Alive.

“What was that?” Sebastian asked himself.

The Book hummed, a small glow coming from it as Sebastian heard the Book’s words in his head,
Purgatorium.
Its voice was deep and resonant, like the voice Batman would have if he really existed, but there was something disconcerting about it too. It was eerily familiar.

“I—I know you. I feel like I know you.” He sensed something above him.

Yes. Old friend.

“And, I know this,” Sebastian said as he reached into the air, about to grab something that wasn’t there. But something was there. When his hand made contact, he closed around something hard, solid. A scythe. A faint memory of a dream tickled something inside him, the fear now gone. This was an old friend. The scythe was translucent. He tried to pull it down to examine it closer, but something fought him. He pulled harder, forcing the scythe to become solid. It crackled into existence, blue arcs of electricity snapping around it until it slid free, leaving a trail of dark purple mist that faded into the air.

The wooden staff had a smooth, worn texture, perfect for Sebastian’s now gloveless hands. The blade itself was massive, large enough to weigh over a hundred pounds at minimum. Strangely though, its body was equally balanced, even with the large blade on one side and nothing on the other. To Sebastian, it seemed to weigh no more than a broom.

“This . . . is all so familiar.”

Your memory will return in time,
the Elder said.

He let go of the scythe. It fell and shimmered away a split second before it hit the ground.

“I can feel it, wanting to return.”

The Book remained silent.

A thought struck Sebastian. “Do you know anything about my memory? On why I feel like I should know things and I don’t?”

The Book remained silent.

“Okaaaaay.”

My apologies. Certain topics are blacklisted. Even from me.

“Well, that’s going to be helpful,” Sebastian muttered.

Let’s start from the beginning. I am The Elder. And you are the reincarnation of Death. You have been asleep, resting, for more than five hundred years. It
is
your responsibility to—

Buuuuzzz
.

Sebastian glanced down at his phone. What timing. “Oh, hang on. It’s a friend. I really got to take this.”

The Book remained silent.

Buuuuzzz
.

After pressing the “accept” icon below Hope’s picture, he brought the phone to his ear. “Hey, what’s up?

“I got it,” she replied.

“Got what?”

“Ahold of Jared. Well, sort of. You see, I have this app on my phone that lets anybody within our plan locate each other. I didn’t think about using it because I didn’t know how to set it up.”

“And you got it set up?”

“It took me a few minutes, but yes. He’s in the downtown area.”

The Elder spoke.
Jared Ryan, age 17. Time of death: 9:14pm
.

Awkward silence.

Sebastian turned to face the book. “What did you just say?”

He knew exactly what the Book had said. Still he stared at the Book, waiting for a response.

Hope answered instead. “I said he’s downtown. I’ve been driving around, looking for him. I’m worried.”

Something crept in his chest. His gut told him not to look at the clock, but he couldn’t help it. His eyes darted to it.

9:10pm

His face suddenly flushed.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood. Goosebumps blanketed his arms. Every muscle was tense. His heart beat fast and hard. A warning. “Hope, no. Listen to me. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”

“Sebastian, you don’t have a car. I do. I called to let you know not to worry.”

“Hope! No, listen!”

“Relax, Sebastian, don’t worry. You’re being silly. I’ve been to the city before. I’ll be fine. Good night.”

She hung up.

Tapping his finger, Sebastian felt a stab of panic. “Damn, I need to get to
—”

. . .downtown?

Directly in front of him was the Chesapeake Bay with the Baltimore city skyline behind it. The bright lights from buildings and street lamps reflected in the rippling water. Off in the distance, police sirens wailed.

He glanced around and quickly took in his surroundings. He was standing in what appeared to be a corner of an alley with the large Book, what he now knew as the Elder. Now, it was as light as a paperback in spite of its size. He heard a skittering noise coming from his right, and turned to see a rat running between two green dumpsters on one side of the alley. Beer bottles and torn open bags of trash surrounded the dumpsters. Farther back past the dumpsters a late model, abandoned car sat on deflated tires.

“How did we get here?” he said aloud.

You did it . . . with my help.

“I did?” Sebastian asked, hearing the confusion in his voice. God, if his mom caught him in the city, especially this late at night, she would kill him.

Yes.

“What are we doing here?”

Think about it, Reaper. You are—

“I am . . .” Sebastian blew out his breath explosively. “I have no idea what I’m doing here,” he replied, shaking his head.

Reaping. And here is your first assignment.

Near the front of the alley, Jared was coming out from the backdoor of a coffee shop. In one hand, he held some sort of pastry. He took a sip
from the coffee cup in his other hand, grimacing as though it burned his tongue.

“Jared,” Sebastian whispered, his stomach suddenly heaving and churning sourly.

After a long day of pain and misery, Jared decided it was time to head home. Hope had called him numerous times, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer. He just couldn’t deal with anyone right now, not Hope, and not Sebastian either. Jared knew he was being selfish by avoiding everyone, but he just needed to be alone. True, Sebastian needed a best friend, but he could wait a day.

He pitched the coffee cup into the dumpster a few feet from him then fished his phone out of his pocket. Scanning through his contacts, he found his sister and was about to click on her name when a familiar voice called out to him.

“Jared. That’s your name, right?”

He thought he recognized the voice but he wasn’t quite sure. He turned to see one of the guys from the subway car.

“Guppy? Is that you?” he asked.

“What did you just call me!?” Guppy yapped, his left eye twitching vigorously.

“
Step.
Aside,” called a voice from the darkness.

Shifting his attention cowardly to the ground, Guppy moved away as a tall, skinny figure stepped out from the darkness. He appeared older, maybe in his thirties. His pale skin glowed white in the dim light, but his eyes were pure darkness.

Guppy beamed, still avoiding Jared’s eyes.

“His name is Rufus,” he announced, triumphant.

A moment later, like a hound dog, Rufus began sniffing the air. With each sniff, Rufus stepped closer to Jared, eventually nearly touching him with his nose. “I can smell the heart on this one,” he said.

Jared thought about that statement. With a heavy sigh, he said, “What does that even mean?”

Rufus eyed him once more. “There is no turning this one.”

He snapped his fingers. Shadowed figures emerged from the darkness, appearing from different locations in the alley. Some spilled out of manholes, others emerged out of dumpsters, some came from fire escapes and nearby roofs.

They huffed and puffed as they spread out. Heavy booted steps echoed off the concrete. All of them had different types of weapons: chains, bats, brass knuckles, knives, and one even had a katana.

“So what, that’s it?” Guppy asked. “You’re not going to make him suffer?”

“Vipers tend to strike quickly,” Rufus answered. “Question me again and you will find out just
how
quick.”

Gang members came from behind Sebastian, stepping by him without looking at him, as if he didn’t exist.

The Elder pulsed in Sebastian’s left hand.

It’s time for you to don the proper attire for the occasion
, it whispered.

The book dissipated into a purplish, almost black mist. The palm of Sebastian’s left hand tingled. He shook his hand, trying to remove the sensation. The tingle increased to pinpointed spots of stabbing pain. He shifted his gaze to his palm and saw what appeared to be swirling lines of tiny crawling ants, only the lines weren’t ants, but black threads. The threads laced into each other and wrapped around his fingers. He felt the same from his right hand now. The lines pulsed in time to his heartbeat, racing faster and expanding to fully envelope both of his hands. The pulsing stopped, leaving his hands encased in the tight, leather gloves, blacker than any shadow he had seen before.

Booming thunder vibrated the air, causing the hairs on his arms and neck to stand up. Wind blew in from somewhere beneath him, carrying with it whispers and strange words. He turned slowly as the familiar black and purple mist rose from the ground around him, snaking up his ankles, shrouding his legs in darkness. Lightning struck the ground all around him, splitting the darkness as a black, tattered shirt formed around his chest. Multiple layers of frayed cloth as dark as black holes formed from the darkness, surrounding him and writhing over his body. The final layer formed a thick robe that felt like liquid on his skin, not quite wet, but soft and cool.

The mist around his head pulsed, growing lighter and darker until he released a deep breath. The mist moved from his face, forming a ragged and deep hood. A final flash of lightning, forked and pure white, struck the earth right before him. As blinding as the light was, it couldn’t penetrate the darkness from his cowl.

The Elder’s disembodied voice came to Sebastian’s ears like a pair of mystical headphones.

This is the form of Death. Since the beginning of time, you have walked the Earth, taking the lives of both aged and babe. You took no pleasure in most of those you reaped, and your duty left a heavy weight in your heart. But there were others you enjoyed taking. You stood over their corpses, their Souls
quivering in your hands, ready to give them the punishment they rightly deserved. You are one of the most powerful beings that has ever come into existence. You have many names: The Destroyer, Reaper of Souls, Bringer of Death. Taker of life. Mors. Ankou. Dullahan. Azrael.

The Elder continued on with a few more names, each time more pronounced and with proud conviction. Finally, he finished with,
This is who you arrrrrre. . .

The last word coming out in a whisper.

“I can’t do this,” the Reaper replied.

The Book remained silent.

The Reaper was quiet for a second as well. “Jared is my best friend. I’ve already lost somebody. I—I can’t lose anyone else. Not again.”

With a long, suffering sigh, the Elder spoke.
It’s the circle of life, Reaper. This human has paid his toll. Now, it is time for you to collect.

“No,” the Reaper told him firmly.

I see that you have been human too long. You seem to have developed . . . feelings,
the Elder said distastefully.

“I don’t know how to be any clearer. I am not ‘reaping’ my best friend.”

Reaper . . . er,
Sebastian,
is it?
Listen to me. Let me explain. When the toll is paid, a pact is made. That pact states that someone will pass. There is no changing this fact. You do have the power to save this boy, but if you choose to do so, that toll will automatically be passed on to someone close to him.

He knew instantly. “Hope.”

Her life will be forfeited. Can this boy live with the guilt of losing his sister when it should have been him?

“I cannot lose her either
—
”

At that point, the pact will jump again. And it could be anyone. No one is safe. Not even your mother.

“Mom?”

Make your choice, Reaper. Will it be Jared? If not him, then his sister? If not her, then—

“Quiet.” He cut the Elder off so he could think.

Rufus stared at Jared with cold, hard eyes. The look on this kid’s face told him everything he needed to know. He had seen hard times. Rufus understood the sort of life he’d probably had all too well. In time, he knew he’d be able to break this kid. At first, Jared would make a decent street soldier. He could take him in, teach him more about how cruel this world was, and teach him how to survive. He would mold him into the perfect weapon of crime. He could see this boy quickly rising through the ranks, dispatching Rufus’ particular kind of justice, doing
his
will. Eventually, Rufus would retire with the life he always wanted, and be satisfied with this kid taking over. He could finally allow himself to be happy.

But that would take way too much work.

“Kill him,” he said nonchalantly as he walked away.

The answer was simple. Jared was his best friend, but his mom . . . was his
mom
. There had to be a way out of this situation.