Dark Destiny (15 page)

It gave him confidence. Somehow, he had found her in the Heavens, or the Light. Now, he just had to pull her down. Surges of raw power, like electric shocks, shot down his arm, one after another. The glowing orb in his hand grew larger and burned brighter. His pulse raced, muscles clenched tight in anticipation. Every synapse in his brain lit up as the orb took its final shape.

A blindingly bright miniature sun, about the size of a baseball, hung in the air before him, belching flares into his bedroom. Its surface pitched and rolled like an ocean. Beams of white light shot out into the endless dark that surrounded him. The last vestiges of the material world melted away, and the world of Purgatorium came flooding back.

It was different this time. He still stood in his bedroom, but his house had no roof. A roaring torrent of flames circled in the skies overhead. Balls of black lightning hit the bedroom, just inches away from him. A cyclone of air circled around him, picking up bits of flaming papers scattered throughout his room. He focused his attention on the ball of light in front of him. The cyclone didn’t matter. The lightning didn’t matter. The burning skies didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was getting Sara back. He had a lock on her. He had only to pull. He felt that it should have been easy at this point, but it seemed like something was resisting him, fighting him, maybe even pulling back.

“Oh, no you don’t.”

Instead of pulling, he pressed more power into his hands and started to tear apart whatever was holding her and rip her down. Tendrils of dark energy rose from the ground underfoot. They snaked their way around his body, wrapping him up in a silky onyx cocoon. His newly formed Reaper’s robes fluttered in the vortex. He was so close. He knew it.

“Give.” He could feel it. “Her.” He just had to reach out his hand. “Back!”

The skies above parted, giving way to a final, massive rush of white lightning that shattered the glowing sphere in his hand. The resulting explosion launched Sebastian backwards. His body crashed through the bedroom window before landing hard on the roof of a car across the street. The car’s alarm blared over echoes of tinkling glass and crunching metal.

The pain was intense, but he managed to scrape himself off the car. Stumbling, he took a few pensive steps. He was still in Purgatorium, but the sky was no longer on fire. The street was still in ruins, but the blackness and lightning storm had subsided. Had it worked? Had he done it? He
blinked
back to his room to check.

The orb was gone and Sara was nowhere to be found. Bile rose in the back of his throat. “Great. All that and it didn’t work.”

Sebastian shook his head. He would not be deterred. There was a way. He knew it. The Elder knew more than he had said. He’d just have to find a way to convince him to cooperate. A single snap of his fingers brought him out of Purgatorium and back into the land of the living.

The instant he returned, his jaw hit the floor. There she was. Sleeping in his bed. Wearing the same outfit he had been thinking about earlier, the forest green jacket and boots that fit her perfectly. Her face was relaxed, peaceful, as if she was in the middle of a beautiful dream. Had he not just raised her from the dead, he would have let her enjoy it, but he needed to know that he wasn’t hallucinating. He leaned in close and put his hand on top of hers.

Warm. Alive. She was breathing softly. Inhale. Exhale. He’d done it. He gently tucked a pillow under her head and pulled a blanket over her.

“It’s c-cold,” she said weakly.

Hearing her voice snapped him back. He sat on the floor next to her.

“Sara?” he whispered. Close to her face. “It’s me, Sebastian.”

She gradually opened her eyes. He could tell she was weak. She would probably need some sort of recovery time. She’d just been dead, after all. That would have to take a toll on the Soul? Right?

Her eyes closed again and her breathing grew deep. He sat and gazed at her, admiring the soft contours of her face.

“It worked,” he said as a warmth filled him, though he was still flooded with disbelief.

Thunder shattered the silence of the city. Psychic echoes rippled down, disturbing sleeping minds across the world, causing bodies to turn restlessly in their beds. Those who were still awake felt a tremor deep within their souls, giving them a feeling of unease. All the buildings in downtown Baltimore shook except one: the Transamerica Tower. The penthouse floor, sculpted completely in dark gray marble, had been perfectly crafted for their arrival. The humans were well paid and knew they were not allowed entry.

Michael was the first to appear by the largest window on the Northern side of the building. He stepped up to the glass, steel blue eyes staring out over the city, as though he were a shepherd watching over his flock. His fair skin was luminous in the glass reflection, contrasting with his long, bound, black hair and his formal military attire, black slacks perfectly creased, the jacket falling to his knees. Five diamond studs stood out on the white collar of his shirt.

In the momentary darkness, after a flash of lightning, his brother, Gabriel appeared.

Gabriel’s white, button down shirt and black coat were stretched taut by his tall, muscular frame and broad shoulders. His shorter black hair was slicked back off his forehead and he towered over his brother Michael. His fists opened and closed again and again, knuckles popping as he stretched his neck from side to side, causing the four diamond studs on his collar to glitter. He arched his back, shook out his shoulders and stood relaxed as he acclimated to his new body. He smiled wryly, for he knew what was to come.

He stepped closer to the window. A lightning storm slashed the sky, the white forks cutting again and again into the darkness, only to be swallowed up. He knew the meaning of this storm: a Revenant was born. A Soul had been ripped down from the Light and placed back into human form.

A third figure appeared: their younger brother, Raphael, three diamonds displayed on his collar. He was tall, roughly six feet, though still shorter than his brothers. He was slender and wiry, without their brawny builds. Raphael’s hair was brown and trimmed short, slightly spiky on top. He rolled his shoulders and popped his neck, also liking the feel of his new body.

It was time to get started.

Tuesday, 11:05 pm

Snuggled warm under a blanket on Sebastian’s bed, Sara had been asleep for a few hours. Sebastian sat in his desk chair as close to the bed as possible. He watched her sleep, but his eyes were unfocused, staring past her peaceful face and her hair, like dark brown silk, spread out on the pillow. Bringing her back from the dead was the only call he could have made, but now what?

His eyes snapped back into focus on her face as a soft exhale of sound escaped her parted lips. She groaned sleepily.

“Se-Sebastian?” She whispered so quietly he barely heard her. He leaned forward, the chair squeaking from his movement.

“I’m here.” Still not opening her eyes, she slowly sat up and rubbed the back of her neck.

“C—can I have some water?” Her voice was still soft, barely a whisper, but he
blinked
downstairs to the kitchen before she finished speaking. He grabbed a glass from the cabinet above the counter and turned on the tap. The water was ice cold from the December weather. He filled the glass to the top, barely shutting off the faucet before
blinking
back to his room.

“Got it,” he said softly. “Here.”

Sara took a deep breath and exhaled gently. She opened her eyes, squinting at first, trying to focus in the dark room. When she finally opened them completely, she turned to see the glass of water edging closer.

“AH!” she yelped, jerking back so suddenly he dropped the glass. It shattered when it hit the hardwood floor, making them both jump as the glass and water spread out in a mess.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m here,” he said softly, leaning forward as he took her hands into his. “You’re okay.”

Her hands shook in his, they were trembling.

“I—I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“What time is it? What happened?”

Sebastian took a breath. “It’s late, and a lot.”

He reluctantly let go of one of her hands and reached over to his desk. He clicked the switch and his small, reading lamp sprung to life. “I’m not sure where to start . . . what do you remember?”

With the sudden low light of the lamp hanging in the room, Sara opened her eyes wider, then squeezed them shut. She pulled her other hand from his, pressing her fingers into her temples and massaging them gently. She opened them and shifted her gaze to the alarm clock on Sebastian’s bedside table.

“Oh God, it’s so late. I better call my mom.” She reached for his phone sitting next to the clock. He quickly reached over the bed and grabbed the phone before she could.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” she asked. “Sebastian, my mom is going to
kill
me.”

Sebastian winced at her words. “I need to tell you something first.”

Putting his phone in his pocket, he took her face in his hands gently and locked eyes with her, something he’d learned from her. “I’m . . . not sure how to tell you this.”

“Tell me what?” she asked, her tone cautious.

He considered what would be the best way to say this. Finally, he settled on. “You
died
a couple of days ago.”

She leaned back. “
What?
”

He reached behind him and grabbed his suit jacket off the back of his chair. From the inside pocket, he pulled out the Order of Service pamphlet from her funeral. Her picture was displayed on the front of it. Hesitantly, he offered it to her.

She stared at it for a moment before taking it, her expression blank. She flipped through it, eyes scanning the few pages. Her forehead furrowed in confusion. Sebastian sat down next to her and put his arm around her.

Sebastian, we need to go,
the Elder said.

Sara didn’t react to the strange voice. She obviously couldn’t hear the Elder. Sebastian could only count his blessings.

“Now is not the time,” Sebastian muttered in a hushed whisper.

Sara didn’t react to his words either. Apparently, she was lost in her own thoughts.

When you ripped a Soul out of the Light, you created a Pact. Someone here is about to pass. Someone you know. Don’t worry, it’s not your friend, Hope. It is someone else.

Then the Elder said the name of the person passing . . .

“Oh God,” Sebastian said, shocked. “Sara, I need to go.”

She blinked her eyes once and he was gone, flakes of glowing embers swirling in an unfelt breeze faded away into nothing.

Tuesday, 11:14 pm

Sebastian stared at the hospital. The thought occurred to him that he’d likely be visiting this place quite a bit in the future. He now understood that this passing was his fault. By bringing Sara back, her life had been exchanged for another. Guilt washed through him. He had no right to be playing God. The pact had been created and there was nothing he could do.

He exhaled, mentally preparing himself for what had to be done. Somehow he had come to terms with his new job in general, but he didn’t know if he could do
this
reaping. It wasn’t fair. He walked towards the hospital doors and a sinking feeling of dread came over him. It tasted like bile.

Well, now wasn’t the time to be thinking of himself. This person needed someone strong to guide him into the Light, and Sebastian would be that guide.

He took a deep breath and committed himself to this job that he did not sign up for. It just was not fair.

Gasping awake, the smell of antiseptic and Clorox, or some kind of bleach, assaulted his senses. His vision was partially blurred and he was unable to open one eye. Everywhere was sore. A bright light shone down, almost blinding him, before somebody stepped in front of it, a large man he could not yet identify. The aching throughout his body shocked him. He needed to know what had happened, what would happen.

“Where am I?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, only the fear in it audible.

Pain shot up his right arm, but it was quickly replaced with an oddly cold feeling. His consciousness started to slip away, but his father’s voice rang out, crystal clear. “Grayson! It’s me son.”

“Dad?” he asked, shaky.

“I’m here, son,” Grayson’s father answered. His tone was stern, yet Grayson caught the wavering behind it.

Breathing hard, a tear fell from his good eye.

Feeling came back to his arm. Even lying on the bed, it began shaking hard. “Daad, I’m—I’m sca
—
”

“It’s okay, I’m here. You’re at the hospital.”

“Wha—what happened?”

“There was an accident.”

“A—Accide
—
”

An imaged flashed quickly.

Flying metal.

The smell of burnt rubber.

A thunderous crash.