 
### The Zombie Knight Saga

### **Volume One -** _Elegy for an Immortal_

### George M. Frost

### Copyright George M. Frost 2014

Published at Amazon and Smashwords
Table of Contents

Concerning the setting

Map of Atreya

First Oath -- Blood and Iron

Chapter One: 'O, benevolent darkness...!'

Chapter Two: 'Hark! Ye quiet horrors...!'

Chapter Three: 'Thy path be not gentle...'

Chapter Four: 'Embolden thy steeled heart...'

Chapter Five: 'Beholden to thy grim task...'

Chapter Six: 'Of iron promise...'

Chapter Seven: 'O, truculent fortune...!'

Chapter Eight: 'Where an Aberration doth grow...'

Chapter Nine: 'Forbearant soul, gird thyself for war...'

Chapter Ten: 'And ye shall know fear...'

Chapter Eleven: 'A true flesh wound...'

Chapter Twelve: 'O, vigilant heart, take heed...'

Second Oath -- Queen and Country

Chapter Thirteen: 'O, blood of noble birth...!'

Chapter Fourteen: 'Foul souls, gather ye wits...'

Chapter Fifteen: 'Behold! Thy deathly steed...'

Chapter Sixteen: 'Trust thy suspicious heart...'

Chapter Seventeen: 'Hold thee dear...'

Chapter Eighteen: 'O, crashing pyre...!'

Chapter Nineteen: 'Come forth, ye jubilant devils...'

Chapter Twenty: 'Thine unyielding aegis...'

Chapter Twenty-One: 'Alliance of calamity, capitulate not...'

Chapter Twenty-Two: 'Quiet guardian, take respite...'

Third Oath -- Family and Honor

Chapter Twenty-Three: 'Thy beloved kinship...'

Chapter Twenty-Four: 'Be not troubled...'

Chapter Twenty-Five: 'A maelstrom doth brew...'

Chapter Twenty-Six: 'Thy desperado's heart...!'

Chapter Twenty-Seven: 'O, implacable father...!'

Chapter Twenty-Eight: 'Beware thy shadow...'

Chapter Twenty-Nine: 'Forth unto ruin...'

Chapter Thirty: 'No quarter...'

Chapter Thirty-One: 'The dance of shade and darkness...'

Chapter Thirty-Two: 'Steadfast heart, expect not refuge...'

Chapter Thirty-Three: 'O, solemn child...'

Afterword and thanks
Concerning the setting:

The story takes place in a modern fantasy world called Eleg, which is culturally and technologically similar to present day Earth in many ways, yet also divergent in many others. It's not an alternate timeline, as Eleg has its own geography and political systems, but there are still some historical parallels.

Often, the story will contain very dark subject matter. Similarly often, there will be very strong language. It gets super violent, too.
Map of Atreya

Area: ~183,000 sq. km.

Population: ~44 million

Capital city: Sescoria

## -First Oath-

## Blood and Iron

#  ~Ch. 1~

# 'O, benevolent darkness...!'

"Hello there, friend."

"...Where am I? What's happening?"

"Easy now. Don't panic. Everything's alright."

"...What's going on? Why can't I see anything?"

"I'm going to tell you, but I need you to listen. I promise to answer all of your questions, so just try to stay calm, okay?"

"...O-okay."

"Listen. You're dead."

"...What?"

"You're dead. You don't have a physical body, anymore. That's why you can't see or move."

"...What kind of crazy joke is this?"

"I'm sorry, friend, but I'm not joking. If I were joking, you'd be laughing. I'm hilarious."

"What the...?"

"Just relax a moment and think about it. You should remember your death."

"But... I..."

"Do you remember?"

"I... yes... I remember... I..."

"Don't worry. It's alright. I was there when you died. I know what happened."

"I'm... really dead?"

"Yes."

"...Does that mean... this is... some kind of afterlife?"

"Not quite. You haven't reached that point, yet."

"...What do you mean? Why not? Is it... because I...?"

"No, it's nothing like that. Everything is perfectly normal. I just woke you up a little early, is all. Because before you move on, I have a proposition for you."

"Proposition...? Who are you?"

"I'm called a few different things, but you'd probably know me best as a reaper. You know. The grim kind."

"The hell...?"

"I guide and protect souls as they make the journey into the afterlife. Or oblivion. Whichever."

"You... don't know?"

"Sure don't. I'm just a ferryman."

"Oh... that's... disappointing..."

"Hey. It bothers me, too. In fact, shut up about it. I don't need you reminding me of my shortcomings."

"Uh, sorry..."

"Normally, you'd never know I was here, but I had to disturb you to ask a question."

"...A proposition."

"Right. See, as a reaper, I have the power to keep one servant, someone who will help me with various things."

"Servant...? You want me to be your servant?"

"Servant, partner, friend, ally, whatever you wanna call it, but yes, that's basically the idea. I'd revive your body, and you'd be able to live again, as long as you help me out. You died very young. I thought you might want a second chance, a chance to, perhaps, live a more fulfilling life."

"More fulfilling...?"

"Was I wrong?"

"Well... no... but... you could really do that?"

"Yes. No one's discovered your body, yet, so there's no problem."

"So... you could, like, make me into some kind of billionaire or something in my new life?"

"What? No, of course not. That's not how it works."

"Then what the hell were you talking about just now?"

"It's like this: your body is dead, now, but I can revive it and reattach your soul. I can't give you a brand new body and tons of money. That'd be crazy. I'm a reaper, not a friggin' genie."

"Oh... so I'd be living the same life as before..."

"Almost. Well. Kind of. I mean. Things could get a bit complicated."

"...What the hell does that mean?"

"I wouldn't revive you for no reason, of course. I'd want you to help me out, like I said."

"...Help you with what?"

"Saving lives."

"...Huh?"

"I've been around for thousands of years, ferrying souls across this rift between realms. And I'm able to observe the living, but I can't interact with you until you die. So, as you might imagine, I see a lot of terrible things happen in your world, things that I'd like to be able to do something about. But obviously, I can't. Not by myself. That's where you'd come in. I'd find people who are about to die, and then you'd go save them."

"Uh... wow..."

"Wow?"

"It's just... I mean... are you serious?"

"Yes."

"But... uh... That sounds great and all, but... I don't think I'd be able to save anyone..."

"Sure you would. With my help, you'll be unkillable."

"Un...killable...? You mean, like, immortal?"

"Yes. You'd be my undead servant, so naturally, if you die, I'd just revive you again."

"Whoa... undead..."

"Are you interested in giving it a try?"

"Uh... I dunno. Sounds kind of... insane..."

"Eh. That's a little rude."

"You said... I'd be your servant?"

"Yes."

"...What happens if I disobey you?"

"If you decide you don't want to help me, anymore, then I'd just release your soul and let you die."

"You'd kill me..."

"Hey, you're already dead. What've you got to lose?"

"...In that case, it sounds a little too good to be true."

"It wouldn't be permanent. If you decide later that you don't like the arrangement, I'll find someone else and let you go back to dying."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"Uh. I suppose you don't. You'll have to take a bit of a risk. Same as how I'm taking a risk on you."

"I don't know..."

"Well, I hate to rush you, but you might want to decide before someone discovers your dead body. It could cause you problems if people find it before you come back to life."

"I haven't said yes, yet..."

"I'm aware. Please decide. I'm impatient."

"A-alright... I'll give it a shot. It can't be much worse..."

"Excellent. I'll get right to it, then."

"...What're you gonna do?"

"Just hold on. This might be a little jarring."

"Hold on? To what? There's nothing here... What the...? Whoa!"

-+-+-+-+-

Hector awoke with a cringe. A bolt of pain ran through him, but it vanished after a moment. He blinked away the haze in his vision and sat up.

It was the bathroom, he saw, remembering. This was where he had died, in this little, not-so-white-tiled bathroom. At least, that's what he thought. Obviously, he wasn't dead.

The fan in the ceiling buzzed, still, just as before. He remembered that sound, remembered thinking about how it would be the last thing he ever heard, remembered how it had made him feel all the more pitiful in his final moments.

But now, hearing the sound again, the droning hum, he wasn't sure what to think. It seemed almost like a different noise even though he knew it hadn't changed.

His shirt was wet, Hector realized, and he looked down at the crimson stains in its thin white cloth. He stood and saw the floor, a pool of his own blood.

He scratched his head. "Huh..."

A mirror greeted him next, his face reflected through a slight cloud of soapy fog. Everything looked the same. The black skin, the shaved head, the somber brown gaze--all his. Somehow, part of him expected to see someone else. Part of him wanted to.

His eyes fell to the sink, to the razor blade in it. It seemed a strange way to die, suddenly, by way of such a small thing, a tiny strip of sharpened metal. But then, he supposed it hadn't really been the razor so much as the long, vertical gashes along his arms, which were still there, though they didn't seem to hurt at all. In fact, he couldn't even feel them. He seemed capable of moving them just fine, but they were completely numb.

'Hello, again,' came a voice, and he turned to see a figure appear next to him, sitting there... floating there. A skeleton, it seemed to be, its bones emanating white from behind a shroud of the pitchest black he had ever seen. A scythe sat in its grip, the blade hanging low beneath its body.

Hector just kind of stared, wide-eyed.

'No return greeting, huh? Well, fine.' The skeleton's jaw moved with its words, though Hector couldn't understand how.

After a moment, he managed to conjure up a word of his own. "You're..."

'The reaper you were just talking to, yes. Nice to meet you. Officially, that is.'

"You look... you look just like I imagined you would." He blinked a few times. "Is this really happening...?"

'Ah, right. My appearance.' It gave a skeletal shrug. 'Whatever you're seeing, right now, it's not really what I look like. In truth, I don't actually look like anything.'

"...What?"

'Your brain forms an image of what I should look like and projects it onto my presence. Appearance is something for your physical reality, where I do not exist.'

"I... don't understand..."

'Ah, well, it's no big deal. Oh, and before I forget...' The reaper hovered closer and reached a gangly hand toward him.

Hector recoiled a little, but the hand still found his shoulder. And suddenly, he felt his arms begin to burn. He looked down to see the bloody gashes bulge and tighten. A groan escaped his lips as he watched the wounds close themselves, leaving only streaks of blood behind, both still wet and already dried. The pain subsided after a few moments.

"What the hell...?" He traced over his arm where one of the slits had been, brushing away the blood. Not even a scar remained. What's more, his arms were no longer numb.

'Might want to clean up all this blood,' said the reaper, motioning to the floor. 'I can restore your body, but once the blood leaves, I can't put it back. Same goes for your limbs, if they get chopped off or something. I don't reattach things. I just regrow them.'

He squinted a little. "Regrow...?"

'I can revive you, no matter how bad your injuries are,' it said. 'Even if your whole body is destroyed, I can recreate it again. That's how my power works. As long as I maintain a link to your soul, I can resurrect the physical body that accompanies it. Without the soul, though, I can't do anything.'

He wasn't sure what to say.

'It's too bad, really. If I could create a body from scratch, then I wouldn't need anyone's help. I could just make a body for myself and go be a superhero or something.'

"Uh... I-I see... I think."

'But there's a lot more I should explain before we start trying to save the world and whatnot, and you should probably clean up this mess before someone sees. Unless you plan on starting things off by revealing your secret to someone.'

"Er, right..." He moved toward the door and then paused awkwardly. "Uh..."

'Maybe a mop would be useful?'

"R-right..." He opened the door and left. A narrow hallway awaited, and he couldn't help staring at it for a moment. Such a simple place. Creamy white walls and plain brown carpeting. He must have seen it thousands of times, but it seemed somehow different. Everything did, in fact. His scuffed sneakers, his baggy black trousers, even the hallway light over his head and the moth fluttering around it; everything was a reminder of himself, of who he was, of his sudden uncertainty as to whether or not he was still that same person.

He made sure to close the bathroom door behind him and went downstairs. His parents sat together in the den, watching television in the dim light of a tall lamp. They didn't bother to look at him as he crossed into the kitchen, though he was sure they must have heard his footsteps. But then, he supposed it was better that they didn't see him. Explaining all the blood on his shirt would have been difficult. Quickly, he grabbed the mop by the refrigerator.

'Don't forget a bucket,' came the reaper's soundless voice, and Hector nearly dropped his mop, juggling it between hands for a few moments. 'Some towels would probably be good, too.'

He looked around, blinking. The kitchen was empty, still. He chanced a whisper. "Where are you...?"

'Still in the bathroom,' came the reply. 'I can talk to you, no matter how far apart we are. Has to do with the fact that I'm tapped directly into your brain, rather than talking with a physical voice.'

There was a pause, and Hector just kind of squinted as he waited.

'It works both ways, you know. Say something in your head, and I'll hear you.' Another pause. 'You have to actually think something explicitly, though. Concentration is what solidifies the thoughts in our minds and makes them understandable.'

"Uh... Oh." '...Like this?' he thought, letting his gaze wander toward the ceiling.

'Yeah. Easy, right?'

'Er... sure...' He grabbed the other accouterments that the reaper had mentioned, made his way back upstairs without drawing the attention of his parents, and began mopping up the bathroom floor. With each stroke, the crimson ebbed away, leaving behind a pinkish residue as the pool of blood crowded back in on itself.

He wasn't sure how long the blood had been there, but it had begun staining the tile, so he guessed a few hours must have passed, at least.

'You've gotten quiet,' said the reaper, making Hector look up from his work. 'I thought you'd have more questions for me.'

He stared at the blood for a bit. "...They didn't notice."

'What?'

"My parents," he said, wringing the mop out over the bucket. "They didn't notice I was dead."

There was a noticeable pause. 'You were locked in a bathroom, you know. It probably would have been a while before they discovered your body.'

"I wonder how long it would've taken..."

The reaper fell quiet after that. It wasn't until after Hector had nearly finished cleaning that the conversation resumed.

'I'm Garovel, by the way. Garovel is my name, that is.'

Hector took a seat on the edge of the bathtub and looked at the floating skeleton again. "Okay," was all he said.

Garovel tilted his head. 'Not much for conversation, eh? You talked more when you were dead.'

"...Sorry. I don't... I mean... yeah."

'Well, don't worry about it. There's no need to rush things.' Garovel drifted nearer the mirror, and Hector realized suddenly that the reaper had no reflection. 'You don't seem to be the very curious type, so I guess I'll just explain. Stop me if you have a question.'

Hector waited.

'You and I are now connected,' Garovel said. 'I am what sustains your life, now. Biologically, your body is alive again, but I am the only thing that keeps you attached to your body. Your soul, your consciousness, your sense of self, whatever you want to call the thing, I'm the one who maintains its connection with this world, now.' The reaper paused a moment, considerate perhaps. 'I suppose that might sound like a bad thing. Having your soul controlled by someone else, that is, but there are actually some pretty fantastic advantages to this whole scenario. The first is, of course, the ability to restore your body, but I already talked about that. And I believe you've already glimpsed the second major advantage. That is, the ability to continue moving, even after your body is technically dead.'

He blinked.

'It has to do with your brain.' Garovel tapped a long phalanx bone against his bare skull. 'Rather than having to rely on blood and flesh for all of its energy, your brain now relies entirely upon me, largely because I now inhabit your brain, so to speak. But, in terms of this physical world, your brain is now self-sustaining. Even if, say, you bleed to death or your heart stops beating or you even stop breathing, your brain will continue to work just fine.' The reaper paused again. 'Of course, it's not quite as simplistic as it sounds, since the brain is a pretty complicated piece of a equipment. I did have to numb all sorts of signals that might otherwise fool your brain into thinking it needs to shut down due to a lack of blood or glucose or what have you, but you don't really need to worry about all that. I've got everything covered.'

Hector tried to say something but found he didn't have the words, so he just kind of stared with a raised brow.

The reaper tilted its head at him. 'Did that make sense?'

He merely nodded.

'Alright, then. The third advantage is, obviously, having my shining personality around whenever you need me.'

He couldn't help smirking just a little.

'Though, it's more than just my personality,' Garovel went on. 'As a reaper of death, I have the ability to sense whenever someone is on the verge of it. The verge of death, that is. Simply put, I perceive an aura of impending doom about a person's soul. It's very dramatic. Especially because I can't do anything to help them. You, on the other hand, can. So whenever I sense that aura around someone, I want you to try and save them. Understood?'

"Er, yeah..." He nodded again.

'You should know, however, that I will always require this of you. My entire purpose in reviving you is so that you can help me save lives. So no matter how your life may change--be it a new job, getting married, having children, or anything else--if you ever become unable to help me, then I will have to release your soul and find someone else.'

"O-okay..." He squinted. "But... how could I ever become 'unable' to help you? I mean... I doubt I'll ever be too busy to go save a person's life..."

'That's good of you to say, but it may not always be your decision. For instance, if your brain ended up in a jar, you wouldn't be able to save anyone. And I wouldn't be able to get you out. Well. Maybe if it was a weak jar. I mean, a REALLY weak jar. I'm not too sure.'

He blinked a couple times. "Uh... what? Why would my brain end up in a jar?"

'I dunno. I was just giving an example.'

That example was far too specific, Hector felt. "Are... are you gonna ask me to fight a mad scientist or something?"

'Oh, um. I wasn't planning on it, but I can't say its an impossibility, either. Who knows what the future will bring, right?'

"Er... right..." Hector's gaze drifted toward the ground for a moment, then to the unbroken skin on his arms again. "I do have a question, though..."

'What is it?'

"If... if you can... resurrect people like this... then... why don't you... you know... do it... for everyone?"

Garovel hesitated. 'Uh. What? I can't understand you. Stop pausing so much when you talk.'

"Agh..." He tried again. "If you can resurrect people, then... why don't you just... resurrect everyone?"

'You're still pausing. I told you to stop that.'

"Dammit, I'm... trying..."

'Ah well. I understood you the second time, anyway.'

"Then answer my question, already!"

'Hey, you didn't pause that time. Good job.'

"I wish you had a body so I could strangle you..."

'That's an important question, though. Obviously, if I could keep more people alive, I would. I don't know about everyone, but yes. The problem is, I can only maintain a stable connection with one soul at a time. If I tried to maintain it with a second person, then my energy would begin to dissipate, which would end up exhausting or destroying me. And if either of those two things happen to me, then the people I'm connected to would have their souls ripped from their still-living bodies, which would result in either brain death or a psychotic break. And a body with a broken consciousness can become rather monstrous, to say the least.'

He cocked his head back. "You mean, they'd... like... start killing random people?"

'Among other gruesome things, yeah.'

"Wow... okay." He folded his slender arms, and his face distorted a little. "But if that's the case, then... why'd you pick me for this job?"

'Well, I had to pick someone. I needed a servant, and there you were.'

"That's it...? It was just coincidence that you picked me...?"

'Mostly.'

Hector eyed the reaper. "And what does that mean? 'Mostly'?"

'I try not to petition murderers and the like for this job, so yes, there is some judgment involved, on my part. What's more, I didn't pick you. I asked you. You're the one who agreed.'

"But... a second chance like this... who the hell would turn down your offer?"

'Someone who just wants to die.'

At that, Hector hesitated. For a time, he merely sat there, letting his gaze fall from Garovel to the floor. "But," he finally said, "I killed myself..."

'I know. I watched you do it.'

"Then... then why didn't you ask someone else? Someone who died by accident or something?" He breathed a curt breath. "Someone who actually deserves a chance like this..."

'If you'd really wanted to die like that, then you wouldn't have agreed to help me when I asked you.'

As he sat there, his head eased down between his hands. "But..." He sighed.

'Before you died, I had been watching you for quite a while.'

He looked up. "What...?"

'From the moment you decided to commit suicide, I could sense the aura of death around you.' The shadows of Garovel's missing eyes seemed abruptly more intent upon him. 'That's how it works. I sense death when the soul becomes directly imperiled. If you were about to get hit by a bus, I wouldn't sense your death until you walked in front of the thing. Situations like that really suck. But for people like you, people who intend to commit suicide, I sense death when the decision is finalized in your mind.'

He blinked. "Then... you must've been..."

'Yes. I was waiting for nearly seven months. That's how long it took you to do it.' Garovel gave a small shrug. 'Not the longest I've ever seen, but definitely up there. I'd check on you from time to time, maybe two or three times a week. Eventually, I started to wonder why you were letting things drag out so much, why you didn't just get it over with. And then I figured it out.'

His gaze returned to the floor, and his eyes eased shut as he listened.

'The last couple weeks, I watched you quite a lot. That's when I noticed. You were always alone.' Garovel paused. 'At school, you almost never speak to any of your classmates. Maybe it's because you have such trouble communicating. Even here, in your own house, you're very distant from your parents. I don't think I ever saw you say more than a few words to them at a time.'

He squinted hard, feeling the sudden tension behind his eyes, trying to keep it away.

'The reason you waited so long to kill yourself, it was because you were waiting for someone to stop you, wasn't it?'

He covered his eyes with his hand, as if to make some vain attempt at hiding himself. "But... no one did..."

'No. No one did.'

The tears were there in full now, streaming down his face, and he couldn't make them go away, much as he wanted to.

'And then, after you died, when I asked you if you would help me, you agreed. That was all the confirmation I needed. Because like I said, if you had really wanted to die, then you wouldn't have said yes to me.'

He tried to say something else, uncertain what, but found his breath too choked to form words.

'So now you've got another chance. And this time, you'll try to help me, just like I'll try to help you.'

#  ~Ch. 2~

# 'Hark! Ye quiet horrors...!'

Hector had snuck out of the house, which he had never done before and was not sure he ever wanted to do again. His room was on the second floor, so he jumped out the window and broke both of his legs, which hurt like hell, he discovered.

Garovel laughed, promptly apologized for laughing, and then fixed him. He asked Garovel why he could still feel pain, and the reaper explained that pain was still useful in letting him know which parts worked and which didn't.

"Are you really sure about this?" he mumbled into the cool night air.

'What do you mean? Of course I'm sure.'

"But... how am I supposed to stop a serial killer...? You're not gonna... make me... kill this guy, right?"

'Oh, no. That could get messy. Serial killers are matters for the authorities, but I've been observing this guy, and in this instance, the police could use an assist. Just someone to point them in the right direction, that is.'

"Point, how?"

'An anonymous phone call.'

"That will actually work?"

'We just have to give them an excuse to visit his apartment at a particularly inconvenient time for him. The rest should follow.'

They walked for a long while in the dark, leaving the modesty of Hector's inner city neighborhood for the downtown towers. He wasn't sure what time it was, but judging by the fog gathering between the buildings, he guessed it was late enough to be considered early again. The air tram had not stopped running, though, carrying rowdy passengers above the street on its suspended rails, and loud music in the distance bridged the gaps not already filled by sirens.

People on the sidewalks and in the street paid him little mind as they laughed at each other's jokes or stumbled out of a night club or slept on the bench in front of a Nancy's.

He wondered what he would do if some stranger came up to him and started talking, like what happens in every movie where a young person ends up in a strange neighborhood late at night, and the more he thought about it, the more he resolved that there wasn't much for him to be afraid of. In fact, he almost wanted some creepy drunk person to saunter up and start a conversation, just so he could see what would happen. He figured it would inevitably be something surprising, like them turning out to be really fun and perfectly harmless, if a bit over-friendly from the inebriation. And if they tried to kidnap and murder him, well. That would be surprising for them.

'Here,' said Garovel, stirring him from his wonderment. The reaper drifted near a phone booth, and Hector entered. 'Up there.'

He looked where the reaper pointed and saw a fourth floor balcony of a high-end apartment building. A man stood there, smoking in front of a lamp over a window. Even at this distance, he could see that the man was well-dressed in a dark suit and undone tie.

"That... that's the guy?"

'Yeah.'

Hector eyed the phone in front of him. The next step was obvious enough, but he hesitated. "But... what if..."

'Hmm?'

"What if I call the police... and they come and... what if that guy kills one of them?"

Garovel looked at him heavily. 'If you're wondering why I'm not sending you in there instead, it's because this is your first try. I don't intend to give you more than you can handle.'

"But... if someone has to risk their life... then it should be me... shouldn't it?"

The reaper made no response.

Hector kept pressing. "I mean, because, I-I can't die, right? He won't be able to kill me? And... because I... I already wasted my life, anyway, so... I wouldn't even be risking anything..."

'Are you telling me you want to deal with him yourself?'

"I... uh... yeah."

Garovel tilted his head. 'That's surprisingly bold of you. I thought you'd prefer to take things slower.'

"I just... don't want anyone getting killed, is all..."

'If that's the case, then you should probably hurry.'

Hector's face stiffened. "What? Why?"

'Well, you know how I said the plan was to have the police visit him at an inconvenient time? He kills women by seducing them and bringing them back to his apartment, so the intention was to have them show up in the middle of--'

"What?!" He looked back to the balcony, but the man wasn't there anymore. He grabbed the phone and dialed the police.

'Now you're calling? But you just said--'

"Hello?!" he yelled into the receiver. "There's a guy in my building about to kill someone! He's got a gun--"

'He uses a knife.'

"--I mean, a knife, and ah--I heard him making threats on someone's life from outside his apartment!"

<"What is your location?">

"Ah--" Garovel gave him the address of the building, and he relayed it to the operator.

<"Please stay on the line, sir.">

"Sorry, I can't! Just get here!" He hung up and ran across the street. He barged through the entrance, and a security guard scrambled to stop him, but Hector had quite a head start. "Matter of life and death!" he shouted back as an apology

He bounded up the first staircase he saw and got off at the fourth floor. A pair of hallways bade him choose, so he followed Garovel's directions to the door of the murderer.

Hector pounded on the door. "Hello?! Please open up, sir! There's, ah--a gas leak, and we need to evacuate the building!"

No answer.

Garovel ventured inside. 'He's hiding her in the bathroom.'

He backed up and started kicking the door. "Please, sir! I know you're in there! This is very important!" The door didn't budge at all. It might as well have been a wall.

'He's about to slit her throat.'

"No!"

'Here.' Garovel found his shoulder, and Hector immediately felt an explosion of pain throughout his body before it vanished familiarly. 'Kick it in!'

The door flew from its hinges, ripping its deadbolt and chained lock right out of the wood and plaster.

"What the fuck?!" came a voice from the bathroom, and when the man came out and saw Hector, horror struck his face and he backed away toward the living room. "What the fuck are you?!"

And Hector was confused, because he couldn't see his own skin eating away at itself, revealing the dried, bloodless muscles of his face. He couldn't see his shaved hair gone ghostly white or his bloodshot eyes outlined in dead, blackened flesh. Hector just kept walking forward, undeterred by the knife that the murderer threw into his chest, and he grabbed the man by the throat and slowly tightened his grip. Hector could hardly believe how weak the man's struggles were. He easily kept him pinned against the wall, strangling the man until he fell unconscious.

Hector looked at his hands for a second, awed and frightened of himself. He spotted a bundle of rope by the bed, presumably used on the victim earlier. He wrapped it around the killer and tied a triple knot as tightly as he could manage.

Then he saw the woman in the bathroom. She was still alive, and conscious, even. When she saw him, she tried to scream and wriggle free, but her constraints kept her in place all too perfectly. She'd been beaten, apparently, and shallow cuts riddled her arms and face and stomach.

Hector stepped toward her and then stopped, thinking better of it. "Sorry," he told her. "I'd untie you, but... you should probably stay and explain... uh, to the police... about what he tried to do to you. Otherwise, he could... you know... get away with it... and... yeah..."

She only stared back at him, wide-eyed.

"Oh! But, uh... don't worry! The police will be here any minute. And he's unconscious now. And I tied him up just in case. So... uh... y-you're safe, now. And I-I should, I should go..."

Upon hearing sirens in the distance, he ran. Some onlookers had gathered outside, the security guard from earlier among them, but he just pushed past them. He didn't stop running until he couldn't see the apartment complex anymore.

Garovel grabbed his shoulder, and suddenly, his strength left him. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath. His deathly body, however, returned to normal. The blackened and missing chunks of flesh grew anew, becoming the livelier ashy brown color they were before. He barely felt capable of walking, as if he'd just run a marathon where the prize was getting run over by a bus.

"You didn't mention anything... about whatever the hell... you did to me back there..." This time, his pauses were attributed more to his exhaustion and strained breaths.

'I converted the energy your body would normally use to support your life into muscle strength. Which sorta makes you look like a corpse and is why that guy freaked out when he saw you.'

"Oh... okay..."

'You're going to feel like I ripped your muscles out of your body and replaced them with flaming needles tomorrow, by the way.'

"Joy..."

#  ~Ch. 3~

# 'Thy path be not gentle...'

Sneaking back into his house had been a chore. He couldn't very well have gone through the front door; he was sure he would've woken one or both of his parents. So instead, he climbed up the wall to his bedroom window--a wall which clearly was not meant to be climbed. He lost count of how many times he fell. Garovel eventually just decided to empower his body again so that Hector could finally make it back up to his room and into the relief of his bed.

Too soon, however, his alarm clock went off.

'Oops, sorry. Time to get up.'

He groaned into his pillow. "Oh, just... just fuck right off. Seriously... I wouldn't get out of this bed right now if you set it on fire..."

Garovel tapped him on the head. 'It's fine. You can catch up on your sleep later.'

He felt his eyelids recede, the weight from them completely lifted. His exhaustion was gone, he realized, and he sat up. He glared at Garovel. "Why didn't you just do that earlier?" He winced as aching pains vaulted from muscle to muscle all over his body. "And why don't you do something about this soreness, too?"

'Sorry, but that really needs to go away on its own. I told you to expect pain, didn't I?'

He stood slowly and regretted every moment of it. "Agh, oww..."

'It's bad if I keep putting off the recovery pains and exhaustion. They'll just come back stronger later.'

"You can't just... ugh... keep putting it off forever?"

'Yeah, and then one day, I forget. Or we end up separated for a long time, and guess what happens? You experience pain that is so strong, it drives you actually insane.'

He sighed. "Okay, fine..."

'You're very cranky in the morning.'

Hector blinked and flushed red. "Ah--I'm sorry. I didn't, ah, I didn't m-mean to be rude..."

Garovel seemed amused. 'It's fine. Don't look so worried.'

He readied himself for school and left, not needing to say goodbye to his parents who were already gone, and he arrived at the bus stop just as it was pulling up to the curb. Garovel floated steadily along with him, even keeping pace with the bus right outside Hector's window. No one sat next to him.

Calman High School was notoriously cramped. It sat on a crowded high street, its seven stories paling in comparison to every building around it, and since the property was nowhere near large enough to house any fields or facilities whatsoever, every last one of the school's physical education courses and sports teams had to be exported to rented buildings. An eighth floor was being added in order to cope with the number of students, but that meager relief was still months from fruition.

Hector arrived at his morning mathematics class and took his seat in the back corner of the room, thankful at least for the walls on two sides of him instead of another pair of warm bodies breathing down his neck.

It sometimes seemed a strange thing to him that he could feel so alone with so many people around, but the more he thought about it, the more he supposed that to be the exact problem. He wondered if anyone else felt as lost in the crowd as he did. And now, being undead and seeing Garovel drift among the students like the most unapproachably frightening teacher in the world, Hector also began to wonder if a school where everyone knew one another would have changed his life. Or his death.

Garovel hung around throughout his first few classes, making the occasional remark about how no one in the room was about to die or pointing out an inaccuracy in the teacher's lecture. Honestly, Hector was glad for the company, strange as it was, but he wasn't entirely sure why the reaper was staying. Surely, Garovel had better things to do than observe a second-year geography lesson about the Eloan continent's tropical regions. Hector refrained from asking about it, however, figuring it might prompt Garovel to leave.

But as the teacher's lecture drew out and transformed into one of current events, of civil unrest and brutalities in the modern world, a more serious question began to brew in Hector's mind; and when it was time to break for lunch, he decided to petition Garovel for an answer.

'There's something else I want to know,' Hector thought, not wanting to look like the crazy kid in the corner of the refectory who sat talking to himself.

'Yeah?'

'Uh... why aren't you somewhere more important?'

Garovel cocked a bony eyebrow. 'Excuse me?'

'No, I mean... uh... why are you trying to help people here in Brighton? I mean... with all the horrible shit going on in the world, aren't there lots of other places that need help...? Not that, uh... not that I think preventing murders isn't important and all, but, ah... there are whole countries at war in the southeast, you know...'

'I do know, yes. The Korgum-Dozer conflict. And the Kavian civil war in the north. And Jesbol and Horsht far to the west. I'm keenly aware.'

'Then why are you here?'

'Perhaps you think I'm the only reaper in the entire world.'

Hector blinked.

'I'm not, just so it's clear. I'm merely one of hundreds of thousands. And while it's true that most of us don't take on servants, the number of us who do still ends up being quite substantial.'

'So... you're saying the other reapers have the war-torn areas covered? Because that doesn't really--'

Garovel shook his head. 'No, no. Unfortunately, circumstances are appreciably more complicated than that.' The reaper drifted around the side of the table. 'Those of us who decide to take on servants and involve ourselves in the world... well, we don't always agree with one another.'

'Oh, you mean... oh...'

'Yeah. It's especially prevalent in war zones. Some of us will side with one army, while others side with the opposing army. Or some will form their own side, perhaps trying to protect people in the crossfire, perhaps... not.'

Hector sat up in his chair. 'Wait... are you saying... some of you guys are actually trying to make things worse?'

Garovel nodded. 'It may depend on your perspective, but... yes.'

'But... why? I don't...'

'Like I said, we don't always agree with one another. That extends to more essential questions, as well. Such as whether or not human lives are even worth protecting in the first place.'

'That... that sounds horrific...'

'You see? If we tread into a battlefield, we'll almost certainly encounter other reapers with servants. And frankly, you are nowhere near ready for that. Their servants will stomp you into the dust.'

'Aren't I unkillable, though?'

'You are, but I'm not. And until you're able to protect me, we'll be keeping our heads low. I may be a grim reaper, but I don't have a death wish.'

'O-okay...'

'But there is a reason why I chose Brighton specifically,' said Garovel, hesitating slightly. 'There's something... unsettling about this city.'

'Unsettling? How do you mean?'

Garovel gave a strained expression. 'I'm not sure. There's a presence in this city I've never felt before. And it's hiding. I think we may be able to draw it out, given time.'

'Oh... Hmm.'

'Did you have any other questions? Feel free to ask me anything.'

Hector bit into an apple. Chewing used more muscles than he realized, and he felt his neck and face aching in protest. 'Actually, there is something. That woman from last night... were you... I mean... were you going to let her die...? In order to catch the murderer, I mean. If I hadn't interrupted, would you have--'

'Whoa, whoa, hold on now. The plan was to have the police catch him in the midst of torturing her, not with her dead body. The reason he came so close to killing her was because you spooked him by knocking on the door. Otherwise, he would have been torturing her all night, which would have given the police ample time to arrive.'

'Oh... okay... So I... so I just screwed things up, then...'

'No, you did fine, Hector. In fact, your intervention ensured that it didn't develop into a hostage situation.' Garovel eyed him a moment. 'Make no mistake, this is risky territory we're heading into. The idea is to be smart and make the best of situations that are already terrible. Sometimes, there won't be a good option left to choose, and we'll just have to endure. Luckily, you're pretty durable now.'

A cup of chili sailed past Hector's head, and he abruptly realized that a food fight had broken out a few tables away. A half-eaten hot dog landed in his lap and slathered ketchup all over his shirt.

"Oh shit!" came a voice from the crowd. "Sorry about that, pal!" It belonged to a young man he knew to be Micah, smiling apologetically. Micah took a chunk of mashed potatoes to the face.

'That looks fun,' said Garovel. 'Incredibly wasteful, but fun.'

Hector went to get up and had to stifle a groan. When not moving, he could nearly forget that every muscle in his body hated him at the moment. He made his way over to the napkin dispenser at the condiment table, but someone bumped into him. They turned, presumably to apologize, but stopped.

When Hector saw who it was, he averted his eyes and offered his own apology. "Sorry, Davia."

She looked at him as if she were addressing a blank wall. "Why are you apologizing?" she said. "I bumped into you, didn't I?"

Hector didn't chance a reply.

"I'll look where I'm going next time," she said. "So don't tell on me, Hector." She left him alone.

'What was that about?' Garovel asked, floating closer. 'You can't even talk to a girl? You do remember only needing one hand to subdue a serial killer, right? Did that do nothing for your self-esteem?'

'No, that's not what that was. She's... I mean... I don't... It's because she's from the carpentry club and... I... '

'Hmm? You have a history with her?'

Hector tilted his brow at the reaper. 'You... don't already know?'

Garovel merely shook his head.

'I thought you knew everything about me...'

'I occasionally followed you around a bit over the course of seven months. I don't know your entire life story.'

'R-right...' Hector occupied himself with the stain on his shirt. The slash of red reminded him of the bloodied shirt he trashed the night before.

'So? Who is she to you, then?'

He glanced in the direction she had gone and saw her eating with a bunch of other students. 'I was almost part of that group,' he said. 'We were... we were almost friends, I guess...'

Garovel followed him back to his table, phasing through a passing lacrosse player. 'I take it things didn't end very well.'

Hector didn't answer.

'Tell me what happened.'

He sighed and grabbed his fork. 'Why?'

'Do you remember what I said before? You would help me, and I would help you.'

'Thanks, but... there's nothing to help with...'

'Even so, I'd like to know more about you.'

A wash of gratitude ran through him like a shiver, and Hector hid his face downward, as if his food could be so utterly fascinating. For an incredible moment, he thought he might actually cry, which only made him flush with embarrassment. He wished he could tell Garovel how much those words just now had meant to him, but he just couldn't. He didn't know what was stopping him, and he hated whatever it was, but he just couldn't.

At length, Garovel relented. 'Well, have it your way.'

When Hector finally looked up again, hoping the red in his face was gone, he saw the aftermath of the food fight. Several students were cleaning up the mess under the supervision of teachers and custodians. Even after the bell rang, they were made to keep cleaning.

'I'm going to go check on a few things while you're in class,' said Garovel. 'I'll meet up with you again after school, potentially with a new task, so be ready.'

Hector felt himself panicking slightly. 'Ah--um... where are you going?'

'The police station, among other places. I'd like to follow up on our serial killer's case, make sure there aren't any problems.'

'Um... please... um...'

'Hmm?'

'Please... don't leave me alone...'

Garovel paused for an extremely toothy smile. He tapped Hector on the head with the butt of his scythe. 'Don't you remember? When you talk to me in your head, I'll hear you no matter where I am. So don't frown like that. You understand? You're never alone, Hector. Not anymore.'

He nodded uncertainly.

'Unless you want to be alone, that is. Then just don't think at me.'

'Right...'

Throngs of students filed past him as he watched Garovel disappear through the wall's steely blue-and-white tile. He took a breath and proceeded to his history class.

As he sat and listened to the mousy Jeremy Voller attempting to give a report about the recent history of the Crown, Hector began to wonder why he even bothered coming back to school. He could see the instructor growing more impatient with Jeremy's every redundant word. Mr. Cormac had a reputation for candidness that made most of the students like him, and Hector might have been included in that group if he didn't find all teachers inherently frightening.

"Thank you, Jeremy. That was very informative and tedious. You can take your seat, now."

Jeremy took his seat.

Mr. Cormac stood and addressed the class. "Lovely. Which one of you delightful curs would like to bore us with your historical insights next? Hector Goffe, how about you?"

Hector shook his head furiously and tried to shrink into his desk.

"Oh come on. You did the assignment, didn't you?"

Of course he hadn't. He'd planned on being dead for today's class. In fact, not having to do any of his homework had provided all the more motivation to kill himself. And now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure if he would still be able to pass any of his classes. He wasn't sure if he should care, either.

At length, the instructor grew tired of Hector's silence and moved on.

Hector was just waiting for the day to end. After a while, he decided to try the reaper. 'Um... Garovel?'

'Yeah?'

He smiled faintly. 'Are you... er... Have you learned anything, yet?'

'The case seems to be proceeding well. Better than I expected, in fact. I thought they would only be able to get him for attempted murder of the woman you saved, but they found evidence in his apartment which implicates him in the murders he committed previously as well.'

'That's good.'

'Yes. Though, apparently you crushed the man's windpipe.'

'Oh shit... did... He's not dead, is he? I wasn't trying to--'

'No, he's alive. Somehow. I should've given you time to familiarize yourself with that level of strength.'

'If you'd done that, then... we might not have made it to her in time...'

'You make a fair point. By the way, her condition is good... Wait a minute.'

Hector looked around the classroom, as if it would somehow help. 'Garovel?'

'Uh-oh.'

'What's wrong?'

'One of the police officers. I see the aura of death around him.'

#  ~Ch. 4~

# 'Embolden thy steeled heart...'

Hector shifted at his desk. 'Uh... okay... So what do I do?'

'Hmm.'

'Garovel?'

'I'm thinking. He looks perfectly healthy, so it's probably not illness. I can see the aura around him--Officer Mallory, by the way--but the danger doesn't seem to be immediate. He IS in the middle of a police station, after all. I suspect the exact nature of the threat won't become apparent until he leaves the building.

'You want me go to the police station right now?'

'It looks like his shift doesn't end for a few hours. You have time. Head down here after school.'

'Are you sure...? I mean, it's a man's life at stake... and I really don't mind skipping class...'

'I'll let you know if the situation changes. In the mean time, you should probably take steps to conceal your identity. If you end up having to take a bullet for this man, it'd be best if he doesn't see your face when you shrug it off.'

'O-okay, but... I don't exactly have a mask or... anything...'

'Figure it out. Borrow something from a store along the way, if you have to.'

'I don't think that's borrowing...'

'If you can't find a mask in time, then. Well. You're just going to have to risk it. Obviously, concealing your identity is not more important than a person's life.'

Hector paused a moment, and then quietly sighed. 'I... think I know where I can borrow one...'

'Splendid.'

'It, uh, it might look really weird, though...'

'Oh. Well. Forget it, then. We can't have you looking weird.'

'You don't have to be mean...'

'It's tough love, Hector. Tough love.'

A few minutes before the final bell, he slipped out of class. He could hear the instructor hollering at him for leaving early but ignored it and made his way down to the basement level. He was hoping he could get into the carpentry room before any of the club members arrived, but he ended up waiting for its last class to empty. He took to the corner, trying to be invisible, which was surprisingly easy with so many students, and when he spotted the welding mask that someone had yet to return to the storage rack, he gathered himself and reached out. He grabbed it, but so did someone else.

"Hey, what the--? Let go--Hector?"

Hector cringed, realizing it was Lance Alexander, treasurer of the carpentry club and one of the people he'd been trying to avoid.

"What are you doing here, Hector? Don't tell me you want to rejoin the club."

"No," he said, pulling the mask away from Lance. "I just... need to borrow this for a while."

"No one's allowed to take the equipment out of the classroom."

"I'll bring it back."

"That's not the problem." Lance was bigger than Hector, bigger than most people, and no small measure of intimidating, but at that moment, Hector had every reason in the world to not give a damn about what he had to say.

"Report me, then." He fled without waiting for Lance's response.

Hector knew Lance wasn't a bad guy. He knew Lance was just following the rules, and he knew that this would probably earn him detention for a week or two, but he didn't see a way around it. Perhaps the drama club had masks he could borrow, but he didn't actually know where the drama club met; and seeing as the school didn't even have its own auditorium, he figured it wouldn't be an easy place to reach.

He stuffed the black welding mask into his bag and left the campus on foot. He asked Garovel for directions and received them, discovering it was no short journey; but in time, he arrived and the reaper met up with him on the street corner in front of the station.

Hector took a seat on a wood-and-stone bench. 'So, uh... have you learned anything else about him?'

'He doesn't get along with his partner or any of his fellow officers here. Everyone seems to think he's an asshole.'

'Is he?'

'Maybe. I've only known him since this afternoon.'

'I guess it doesn't matter much...'

'He appears to have a daughter. Unlike him, she's a brunette and wears glasses. She looks very young, though the photo on his desk could be several years old by now. No information on the mother, yet.'

'Wow... you're observant...'

'You're easily impressed. It's not much to go on. Mallory doesn't seem to have an active case, at the moment. I only saw him doing follow-up paperwork, but I did discover that he's scheduled to appear in court in a few days.'

'For what?'

'Not sure, but there aren't many things that cops go to court for. If he were being prosecuted for something serious, I doubt he would still be allowed to come to work. Could be they just bumped him off active duty, but I'd guess he's appearing as an expert witness.'

'So... someone wants to kill him before he testifies?'

'Seems likely. But then, killing a cop right before his court date isn't exactly easy to cover up. If I'm right, then someone's either very stupid or...'

'Very influential.'

'Yeah.' Garovel looked at Hector and smirked. 'Heh.'

'What're you smiling about?'

'Y'know, for someone dumb enough to kill himself, you're smarter than I thought.'

Hector's face went flat. 'Fuck you, too, Skeletor.'

Garovel just laughed. 'How's the soreness, by the way?'

He groaned a little. 'Incredibly painful... but... I'm starting to get used to it... I guess.'

'It'll probably get a lot worse after today.'

"Ugh..."

They both spotted a police car exiting the station's side garage, a uniformed officer in the driver's seat.

'There he is,' said Garovel, clutching Hector's shoulder. 'Get ready. I'll follow him and give you directions. When I tell you, start running as fast as you can.'

Hector felt a blaze of vigor run through him. The soreness vanished, and he breathed deep. "Whoa...!" He could feel his muscles pulsing, his blood rushing, and a surge of so much energy that he thought he might go insane if he didn't expel it.

'You might not need it, but put your mask on just in case. And make sure you don't run into anyone. That's more important than catching up to us.'

He slid the welding mask over his face. He had to pull up the small, black visor in order to see at all. The rectangular slit of glass bore a few scratches but not enough to obstruct his vision.

The police car was pulling away. Garovel flew after it, and Hector waited. They fell out of sight, and he kept waiting. Passersby gave him uncomfortable looks as he stood there in his mask, trembling with anticipation.

'Move straight ahead five blocks and turn right. Tell me when you've reached it.'

Hector bolted forward. His legs bounded over the pavement with more force than he expected, but he could tell that he wasn't even breaching his potential yet. He broadly weaved between pedestrians, still picking up momentum, but when he saw an intersection full of passing vehicles, he realized he wouldn't be able to stop in time. So he didn't. He ran into traffic. A white town car blared its horn at him as he leapt clear over its roof and landed still running down the sidewalk.

It was so easy to run, as if it required no effort, as if it was more natural to run than to walk. Someone stepped out from a shop in front of him, and he swiped past the flaps of their coat. He slowed down a little to ensure he had control, and when the turn came up, he went right.

'I reached the turn,' he told Garovel.

'Keep going straight until you see the ramp onto the highway and take it.'

People were becoming a blur, so he slowed his pace again. A crowd filled the sidewalk up ahead. Hector could see himself nearly keeping pace with the cars, so he ran into the street. Striding the white lines between lanes and not feeling winded in the slightest, he couldn't help laughing inside his mask as he searched for a road speed sign. He saw one that said "40 km/h."

Once he boarded the highway, however, the cars began speeding past him again. He pushed his legs as hard as he could, and he was sure that he was running much faster than he had been previously, but the cars still roared by, and he stuck to the shoulder of the road. The next sign he saw said "110 km/h."

Still, after what must have been at least half an hour of running, he exited the highway, per Garovel's instructions, and found himself breathing heavily but not gasping. He figured his blood still needed all the extra air, but his muscles didn't hurt or feel tired in the slightest.

He soon arrived in a quieter neighborhood. He could see the police car parked in a driveway up the street. When he saw the reaper approaching, he slowed to a walk.

"How fast--" He paused to slide his mask off his face. "--Exactly how fast am I, anyway?" As he stood still, he could feel his own heart pounding faster than it ever had in his entire life.

Garovel shrugged. 'How fast can your body run without tearing itself apart?'

He scratched his head and returned with a wet hand. He wiped the sweat on his shirt, but it was similarly soaked. He wiped it on his pants instead.

'Officer Mallory is in his house. You should keep your distance until--' Garovel stopped when they both saw a black van pull up in front of the house. Five men stepped out. Two started for the front door, three circled around back. 'You'd better put your mask back on.'

'Right.'

Dashing up to the house, he saw them knocking on the door.

'Deal with the ones in the back first.'

'Okay.'

He snuck along the neighbor's fence and leapt over into the backyard. The three of them noticed him immediately and stiffened their postures, hands in their coats.

"Who the fuck are you?" said the nearest one, square-jawed and younger than the others. "What's with the fucking mask?"

"Uh... I-I heard you had some leaky pipes?"

"Get outta here before we--"

'You don't have time to chat.' Garovel touched his shoulder, and that familiar pain flashed through his body. 'Go.'

He rushed the youngest guy, who pulled a gun, but Hector flattened him before he could fire. The man stayed down. The other two pulled, and Hector took two in the chest before reaching the next man, slugging him in the face, and kicking his gun away from him. The last one fired five more times, three of which missed Hector completely, and went down with a kick to the testicles and an elbow to the forehead.

Gunfire erupted from inside the house.

He stomped the door down and found Mallory crouched behind the kitchen's island, clutching his side with one arm, trying to reload his service weapon with the other, and staring right back at Hector. A ponytailed gunman was in the hall, and Hector walked straight toward him. A bullet ripped through the mask and pierced his neck. Hector yanked the man's gun away and smashed him in the face with it. A few teeth flew from his mouth and hit the hardwood floor as he did.

A gunshot made him run back into the kitchen. The last thug was slumped in the other doorway, his head blown open and bleeding all over the tile. Officer Mallory took a ragged breath and looked at Hector, doubtless wanting to ask the obvious question, but he pulled out a cellphone instead and dialed. He tried to stand but slid back down against the counter, bleeding nearly as much as the dead man.

"I'm going to assume--guh--that you didn't come here to kill me," said the officer. He put the phone to his ear. "Yeah, I need an ambulance." Giving his address and eyeing Hector, he added, "And there's someone else here in even worse shape than me... I think."

He tried to speak, but the bullet in his larynx made it impossible. Garovel invoked the recovery. None of his wounds hurt, but Hector could feel flesh contracting and expanding, fractured bones shivering as the they rejoined, and bullets getting pushed out of his body and clattering to the floor.

"Who are you?" the officer finally asked.

'What will you tell him?' said Garovel.

Hector was abruptly thankful that his embarrassed face was hidden and decided to do what came naturally to him. He said nothing.

"Well--" Mallory paused for a grimace. "--Thanks for your help, though I can't imagine why you did it."

'Ask him who sent these men.'

"Wh-who sent these men to kill you?"

Mallory squinted. "How old are you? You sound like a kid." At Hector's silence, he said, "Rofal. Joseph Rofal."

"Because you're testifying in court a-against him?"

"Not against him. His little shit stain of a nephew. I was there. I saw him murder that boy. No more than ten years old. Dropped a cinderblock on top of the kid's head. And then laughed. Fuckin' little bastard--" He broke off for a pained cringe and began coughing. His skin had grown pale. Sweat covered his face. "And now I'm dying 'cuz of that little fuck? I should've just... sh-should've just shot that piece of... stupid piece of shit..." The dreary look in his eyes seemed to suggest he had forgotten what he was saying. Or that he no longer cared.

'Ask him about his family.'

"Your family," said Hector. "Do you... do you think they could be in danger, too?"

Mallory just sat there, breathing slowly and staring vacantly at the yellow cabinets in front of him. Sirens in the distance told Hector it was about time to leave.

"Officer Mallory, y-your family... I can help."

'I think you should go, Hector.'

'But we need him to tell us...'

'I don't think he can hear you.'

Blood dripped from the corner of the officer's mouth.

"Officer Mallory... say something. Nod if you can hear me. Blink if you can..."

'Hector...'

"Is he...? He's not... You--you'd know, right?"

'He's not dead yet,' said Garovel. 'But he's probably not going to make it.'

"You can't... do anything? Nothing...?"

'I'm sorry.'

Hector closed his eyes and sighed. "I failed to save him...?"

'We failed, Hector.' The sirens were loud enough to fill the room. 'And if you don't run right now, our failures will only increase.'

He ran. Out the back, through the rear yard, and over the fence. He cut between houses to avoid the street.

'You should take your shirt off.'

He stopped behind the corner of a stuccoed house. He looked down at his shirt, riddled with bullet holes and soaked in blood. "This is..." He sighed. "This is going to become a thing, isn't it...?"

'Probably.'

"B-but... uh... I'm not sure... a black guy running shirtless through this neighborhood will, uh... go over so well..."

'Better than a black guy running through the neighborhood covered in blood. From a crime scene, might I add.'

"But I... I don't know if... uh..."

'This is not the time to be shy, Hector.'

"You say that like it's supposed to make a difference..."

'Take off the damn shirt!'

He pulled it off. And as he looked at the wet cloth, he realized his hands were trembling. Arms, too, even all the way into his chest. It was faint, hardly even noticeable unless he was standing still, but there it was.

'Ah. Your body's gone into shock. I tried to suppress the effects, but this is to be expected.'

"What...? Why am I in shock...?"

'Seriously? You were just shot five times, Hector. Not to mention you saw a guy's brain spilling out of his head. And then Mallory, too. I'm surprised this didn't happen when you were stabbed last night. Just relax a moment. Sit down. You'll be fine.'

The sirens had stopped. They'd reached the house. Sitting in the grass with his legs folded together, he just breathed and tried to think. He frowned and pulled his mask off, as well. He touched the bullet hole with his thumb. "What did I do wrong, Garovel?" he whispered. "I could have saved him... couldn't I? I screwed up... but... agh..."

The reaper floated around him. 'Do you remember what I said before? Sometimes there won't be a good option left to choose.'

"...Is that supposed to be comforting?"

'No. It's not. Because we're not supposed to be comfortable. Being comfortable makes us complacent. Sloppy.'

"Then... what are you saying?"

'I'm saying we did our best. And we don't respond to failure with depression. We respond by becoming better. Until our best is good enough.'

Hector hesitated, but gave a solemn nod. After another moment, he asked, "What do we do now?"

'At the very least, you need a change of clothes. Do you know how to get home?'

"Um... actually, no. I'm completely lost..."

'Then I'll guide you home and return on my own to observe. Hopefully, I'll be able to find out where the mother and daughter are. Put your mask away. It'll only draw attention. It's a bit cold, but without your shirt, you can just look like a jogger.'

He bagged the mask and shirt both and started running, sticking to sidewalks whenever he could.

He kept going over the scene in his head. He kept questioning his decisions during the fight. Maybe it was a mistake to take out the three men, first. Maybe the gunshots alerted the two men out front and caused them to start shooting at Mallory sooner. But if he'd gone for the two front men first, then Mallory would've been alone against three. And even if he had somehow managed to meet Mallory before them, there was no way he could have convinced the officer that he wasn't also there to kill him. Maybe he didn't have to convince him, though. Maybe if he'd--. Maybe he could've--. Maybe...

When he arrived home, he found himself alone again. His parents were still out, probably at a restaurant, considering the hour. Garovel had left as soon as Hector began to recognize buildings.

He made his way upstairs and threw his bag on the bed. He wondered if he would have time to relax at all. He wasn't tired, exactly, but he felt like he should be. He sat down to take his shoes off. A bit of blood had seeped into his right sock.

'I'm at home,' he told Garovel. 'I'll be changed soon.'

'I'm at the scene.'

'What have you learned?'

'Apparently, the daughter was upstairs the whole time.'

'Holy shit...' Hector's brow lowered, and he scratched his head. 'Sh-she... she heard the gunshots and everything...?'

'I'm looking for her now. Word is, she saw a black male in a red shirt and a strange mask fleeing the crime scene.'

'Of course...'

There was a long pause. 'Shit.'

'What's the matter?'

'I see her. She has the aura. Rofal put the hit on her, too.'

#  ~Ch. 5~

# 'Beholden to thy grim task...'

Night arrived by the time Hector reached the hospital. He tried to air out his freshly sweat-soaked clothes as he entered the building.

Mallory's daughter was supposed to be in protective custody for the remainder of the night, and Garovel had initially wanted Hector to get some rest. But then the reaper heard some of the officers talking privately. Each of the four guards assigned to her expected Rofal's men to come for her by night's end, and only Officer Colt seemed to harbor any notion of standing in their way. And it hadn't taken the other three long to talk him down.

Having no need of further direction, Hector waited until the man at the reception desk wasn't looking and snuck past. He held his bag close at his side and tried not to make eye contact with any of the passing attendants.

Mallory had been taken to the rear wing of the hospital for surgery, and according to Garovel, his daughter sat in the waiting room. Hector peeked around the corner and saw the four officers standing at the other end of the hall.

'I see the room,' he thought. He took a seat out of the officers' sightline.

'Good. I'm with the daughter.'

'Learn anything new?'

'Her name is Melissa. A bit on the short side, looks a couple years older than you, brown hair, ponytail in a braid, green shirt with a cute dog on it, blue pants, white sneakers--'

'That--uh--that's a lot of information...'

'You may need to know what she looks like.'

'Uh... yeah, okay. Thanks. I meant more, um... about the mother or about Rofal, maybe...'

'The mother is not alive.'

'Oh...'

'The nurse asked Melissa about it. She said her mother died nine years ago. She didn't mention any other family.'

'Geez... and now this...'

'Yeah. Wait. Here comes the doctor. The surgery's over already?'

Hector held his breath.

'...They couldn't give him a blood transfusion in time. He's dead.'

He exhaled and shut his eyes.

'Melissa's a wreck.'

Hector ran a hand down his face. 'You were right.'

'I wish I wasn't.'

They waited. Hector shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The tension was suffocating. He poked his head around the corner every now and again, wondering what the officers were talking about. Then he saw one of them walking in his direction.

The man was mumbling under his breath as he turned the corner. "--morons..." He locked eyes with Hector, who immediately tried to look away, but to no avail. "Hey, kid. What are you doing here?"

"Uh--" When he met the man's eyes again, he was a bit surprised to see a very calm blue gaze, relaxed, or perhaps just confident. The pin on his uniform read 'COLT.' "I'm... just waiting for someone... Why?"

"Maybe you should go for a walk. Get some fresh air or something. It'll do you good."

Hector lowered his brow a little. "Thank you, but I'm fine..."

Colt leaned in. "I can't order you to leave. I don't have that kind of authority, and frankly, I'm a man who respects another man's right to go where he likes and do what he wants. But, kid. It's about to get real fucked up in here. And trust me when I say you're gonna wish you were somewhere else."

Hector only shrunk into his chair, pulling his bag to his chest and looking at the sterile floor.

"Shit, kid. It was a warning, not a threat." After a moment, Colt shrugged and started walking away. "Fine. Do what you want."

He watched Colt go, watched him talk with a pair of nurses and a doctor, watched them all scurry away not long after he left them alone.

Hector didn't have to wait much longer after that. He noticed the men as soon as they entered the intersecting hallway. He counted four, walking together, all wearing sunglasses at night and dark hats indoors. He donned his own mask and stood.

'They're here,' he said.

'As am I.' Garovel emerged from the wall and grabbed Hector's shoulder. Hector was starting to get used to the pain. 'Wait until we're a hundred percent sure it's them,' Garovel said. 'It'd be awkward if you attacked a dance troupe or something.'

Hector gave him a look.

'Hey, it's possible. Maybe one of their members broke his leg during a routine, and they came to visit him in the hospital. You don't know.'

He waited until they approached the group of officers. When the uniforms started to make way for them, that was good enough confirmation for Hector. He bounded down the hallway. They turned at the sound of his footsteps, but it was far too late for the leftmost thug. Hector barreled into him. The man's body punched through the thin wall, raining plaster into Melissa's room. She shrieked.

"The fuck?!" The thugs drew their weapons, which made the cops draw theirs, but Hector had already grabbed his second thug by the arm. He flung him into the third like a rag doll, and they both stayed down. Hector turned to the fourth, took a bullet in the chest, and punched the man so hard that he felt the guy's jaw break.

"Holy shit. Who the--" A gunshot cut the words short.

He spun around in time to see Colt gun two other officers down, the third already on the ground. All in the back of the head, before they even knew what happened.

Colt looked at him. "Hey, you're that kid, aren't you? What's with the mask?"

Hector was on him in a blink. He slapped the gun away and shoved him against the wall. "What are you doing?! Why did you kill them?!"

"What can I say? My boss is a family man." Colt squirmed under Hector's grip. "You know, you really should've listened\--"

Hector felt the blade enter below his chin. Everything flashed and went dark.

This was a familiar feeling. Emptiness. A vague notion of being in a vacuum. No life, no breath, no light, nothing to sense or be conscious of.

And then he was back. He sat up, discovering he had been on the floor. He shook his head, blinking. "What happened...?"

'I'm sorry, Hector... I couldn't revive you fast enough...'

"Wh-what? I don't--"

'Colt stabbed you. The knife pierced your brain. You still need your brain. I had to resurrect you.'

He climbed to his feet. His mask had come off, but that wasn't his first concern. "Where'd he go?"

' _I don't know. I couldn't follow him and revive you at the same time._ '

"Dammit..." Then it dawned on him, a sudden horror. What Garovel had just said. About being sorry. "Oh no...!" He barged into Melissa's room.

She was on the floor, shot in the head.

Hector reeled back out of the room. His eyes were wide open, looking at everything around him, but the image of her was stuck there. He stumbled. Just breathing was difficult, as if the air itself was choking him. He squinted hard and gnashed his teeth.

'I'm sorry, Hector.'

"Fu--ck!" He clenched his fists so hard that they bled. "I was supposed to save her! I was supposed to save at least her! I can't--I don't--! H-how--?! I have strength! I don't get tired! I can't even be killed! And...! And you're telling me that's still not enough?! Wh-what more do--?! I just...! I don't...! Understand...!"

'We lacked something more important than all of those things.'

"What?!"

'Information,' said Garovel. 'If we'd known Colt worked for Rofal, we would have approached the situation differently. It was an act. He was testing the other officers' sense of duty when he brought up the topic of protecting Melissa. I failed to see through it...'

Hector's face broke in two. He started sobbing.

'I'm sorry...'

"S-stop," he cried. "It's not... it's not your fault..."

'It is, though. You rely on me for information. Please don't blame yourself, Hector. Please...'

He only wept harder.

It was quiet for a long time. No one came to check on them. Everyone who hadn't already left probably fled when they heard gunshots. Garovel said nothing, just let him cry. His bloody hands were warm, throbbing, and he thought he could feel something grainy in them, like dirt, but with his vision blurred, he couldn't tell what it was.

When the tears finally stopped, however, something else consumed his attention, something entirely unexpected. A second reaper appeared through the wall.

'Ah. Someone got here before me,' said the other reaper. He was different from Garovel. He spoke slower, more deliberately, and somehow, his soundless words just felt different. He appeared as a skeleton as well, but his bones were lankier, his face longer. 'Just as well. So many dead at once would have taken a while on my own.'

'My name is Garovel. What's yours?'

'Bohwanox. Pleasure to meet you. Who's the kid? The killer?'

'No. He's with me.'

'That would explain why he's staring at me.' Bohwanox paused and looked at the two of them again. 'Ah. Tried to have him stop it, did you?'

'Please, now isn't the time.'

'Four dead? Sure you didn't end up making things worse? How many would have died if you'd just let it be?'

'Stop talking,' said Garovel. 'You take two, and I'll take two.'

Bohwanox drifted over the three dead policemen. 'What about the morgue? That's what I usually come here for.'

'Ah. Right.' Garovel shook his head. 'I don't know. There's at least one more there.'

'Let's go there first, then. Allow these ones here the chance to go cold at least.'

'Very well.'

Bohwanox looked over them both again, perhaps considering saying more, then drifted off in silence.

'Hector,' Garovel said gently. 'I have to ferry these souls through the void, now. It's going to take me a while. I won't be back until tomorrow. You should rest.'

He stood up slowly. He stared at Garovel vacantly, face spattered with blood save where his tears had fallen.

'Come on. I'll take you home first. You can sleep all you want, my friend.'

#  ~Ch. 6~

# 'Of iron promise...'

Hector never had such a deeply consuming sleep. The second Garovel's hand left his forehead, he was out, as if his exhaustion were a dammed river that had finally broken.

He awoke slowly. His eyes only opened halfway as he regained consciousness. He could already remember everything that had happened, but he wasn't ready to think about it. He hid in the warmth of his bed a bit longer, the lulling tug behind his eyes telling him that nothing mattered just yet. It was all okay for a few more moments.

He took a long breath and sat up. It was still dark outside. No. That couldn't be right. He looked at his clock. It was dark again. He must've slept the whole day.

'Garovel?' He waited for an answer but received none.

He could sense the dreadful thoughts there, the familiar, anguished throes. But he ignored them. It was strangely easy--uncomfortably so, even. But at the moment, he much preferred a vaguely unsettled feeling to whatever those pangs would bring. At the very least, he wanted to wait until Garovel returned.

Hunger drove him downstairs, despite how sore he still was. He found his mother in front of the refrigerator.

When she noticed him, she frowned. "Your school called," she said. "Why did you miss class today?"

He lowered his eyes. "I... wasn't feeling well... I stayed home and slept."

"Are you being bullied again?"

"I've never been bullied..."

"You're too quiet, sweetie. If you were a bit more outgoing, I'm sure they'd stop bothering you."

"I'm not being bullied, Mom..." As difficult as it was to talk to her, he couldn't help being a bit glad, still. She was showing concern for him. That was rare enough on its own.

Her brow furrowed. "Well, whatever the case, if you're going to skip school, then at least get good at it. I used to call the school and pretend to be my mother when I was your age."

"Are you... encouraging me to skip school?"

"Don't be stupid, sweetie. Of course you should go to school. But I can't force you to go, so if you're going to skip, then do it in a way that they don't end up calling me while I'm at work. I nearly lost a client because of the interruption today."

Hector just looked at her.

"Hold on." She left briefly and returned with a small box. "I made you plenty of notes." She handed it to him.

"Uh..." He was usually able to figure out what he wanted to say after a bit of fumbling, but this time he had nothing.

"Or you can just call ahead and pretend to be your father. Or do something creative. Whatever."

Incredulous, he stared at his mother. "Uh... is Dad okay with this...?"

"Of course. You're old enough to make your own decisions about your life, sweetie. You'll be eighteen in a couple years, and then you'll be on your own. It's best you learn to start being responsible for yourself now. Goddess knows you've been a burden on your father and I long enough, already." And she left him there.

He wasn't sure what this feeling was. At once confused, distraught, and still faintly happy to be thought of. It wasn't exactly pleasant, but he wondered if causing trouble would earn him further attention. He immediately discarded the notion.

Back upstairs with turkey, cheese, and tomato on toast, he sifted through the notes she had given him. Her signature was on all of them, as were a plethora of different excuses, usually involving some kind of sickness. Impressively, some were paired with forged doctor's notes with the dates left blank. Some for P.E. Some for band. Some for chemistry. He might have been genuinely amazed, if he were actually enrolled in any of those classes.

Still, he supposed the generic notes could be useful. He smirked. He never would have expected this from his mother. Strange as it seemed, she may have just helped him and Garovel save someone's life.

He sat back as he finished eating. Every part of him ached, but his hands had the worst of it for some reason. He couldn't remember putting them through anything worse than the rest of him. They throbbed enough that he felt the blood pumping through the veins between his fingers. He rubbed his hands together.

There it was again. That grainy feeling. He held his hands under the lamp at his desk.

His eyes narrowed. "What is this?" Specks of dirt littered his palms. Only, it couldn't be dirt. The color wasn't right. They were dark and gray, not light and brown.

Without any ideas, he wiped his hands on his pants and eyed his bed again. Perhaps there was something more productive he could do, but he couldn't think of it, so he went back to sleep, hoping Garovel would be there when he woke up. And in fact, he was.

'Sleep well?'

Hector breathed deep. "Yeah... surprisingly. How'd, uh... how'd it go with Bohwanox?"

'Fine,' was all Garovel said.

He tilted his head at the reaper.

Garovel waved a hand. 'We didn't quite see eye to eye, but we were cordial. Trust me, it could have been far less pleasant.'

"About what he said in the hospital... um..."

'You're thinking he had a point.'

"Didn't he? If we hadn't intervened, Colt might not have killed those other three policemen..."

Garovel was quiet for a time. 'You're right,' he said. 'In fact, I'm almost certain he wouldn't have killed them.'

Hector reared back. "Certain?"

'Colt wasn't just in disguise. He was an actual policeman. The other officers knew him. That kind of infiltration takes time to establish. It's not something you throw away unless you absolutely have to. Rofal must have really wanted her dead.'

"Well... he got what he wanted..."

'Yes...' Garovel frowned. 'How are you holding up?'

"Oh... um, I, uh... I-I'm okay."

'Hector.'

He rubbed his cheek with a shaky hand. "I, uh... I've been trying not to think about it..."

'Better to think about it here and now, instead of when you confront Colt again. Or Rofal.'

"W-when will that be?"

'I'm not sure. We're in the business of saving lives, not taking them.'

Hector looked at him heavily. "You would want me to kill them?"

'It's too soon to give my opinion,' said Garovel. 'I will need to observe their circumstances much more, first.'

"But...?"

'But... what are your thoughts on the matter? Could you purposefully kill someone? It's not what you signed up for.'

"You wouldn't force me to do it?"

'No.'

"I don't know... I don't want to kill anyone."

'Few do.'

"I guess if... if... killing Rofal would spare innocent people... and if there's no other way to stop him... then... maybe I could... but I'm not sure what it would take to convince me that... y'know... there really wasn't another way..."

'Heh. Part of me thought you'd be ready to go rip their heads off the second you woke up.'

"I mean, I am angry... but..."

'That's not you. I know. Would have been interesting to see, though.'

Hector nearly smiled at that.

'Anyhow, I need to gather more information. And I think I know where to begin.'

"You do?"

'The state of play is changed,' said Garovel. 'Four police officers murdered in a single day. Even Rofal can't keep that quiet. All of Brighton is in shock, right now. The police will be feeling the pressure to respond. I'm sure they'll have a few leads for me.'

"Hmm. You should be careful what leads you choose to follow. I think Rofal probably has another cop in his pocket. Maybe more than one."

Garovel cocked an eyebrow at Hector. 'Ah... huh. Yeah, you may be right. That might explain why Colt was so quick to blow his cover. He wasn't Rofal's only agent.'

"Exactly."

'Well spotted, Hector. I'll keep that in mind.'

He tried not to blush. "And, uh... there's something else." He rubbed his hands together.

'What are you doing? Hatching an evil plan?'

"No. Just... wait a second... There." He showed his palms to Garovel. "Can you tell me what this... uh... this crud on my hands is? It's starting to bother me..."

Garovel leaned in. 'Specks of something? Where'd they come from?'

"I don't know. They just keep showing up... And my hands already ache like crazy. It's not like the normal soreness."

The reaper's eye sockets widened. 'Oh...'

"What? Is it something bad...?"

'On the contrary, this is unexpectedly good news. I guess it was a stress trigger. Do you have any idea what the specks are?'

"That's what I've been asking you!"

'Oh, sorry. They could be pretty much anything.'

"You're not being very helpful, right now..."

Garovel laughed. 'You're right. Let me start over. Hmm. Essentially, what's happening is that your ability is manifesting itself.'

"Ability? What kind of ability is this? It's just... powdery shit."

'That, my friend, is the beginning of a materialization ability. Creating something from nothing, that is.'

"Uh... whoa..."

'Right now, though, you're only able to produce trace amounts of it.'

"Trace amounts of what?"

'Hard to say at this stage. Let me have another look.'

He held his hands up again.

'Materialization is typically based around raw elements. This is something dark gray in its pure form. Maybe iron? I don't think there's a way we can be certain yet.'

He licked his hand. "Yeah, that's definitely metal..."

'Tch. Having a sense of taste is cheating.'

"I didn't realize we were competing."

'The reason blood tastes metallic is because of iron-containing hemoglobin in your red blood cells.'

"What does that have to do with anything...?"

'I just wanted to say something smart.'

"Okay, um... about this ability..."

'Hemoglobin is what allows blood cells to transport oxygen.'

"Garovel..."

'Oh, fine. What do you want to know?'

"How does this ability work? And, uh... what can I do with it?"

'What you create is yours completely. You have dominion over its existence. For instance, if you create a fully iron sword, you could then destroy it utterly, leaving no trace. But if you came upon an iron sword which already existed, you wouldn't have that same power over it, because you didn't create it.'

"What's mine is mine completely... Hmm..."

'That's the principle of it, anyway. You shouldn't get too excited, though. Servant abilities grow extremely slowly. Even very simple objects will take practice to create.'

"How much practice?"

A beat passed as Garovel eyed him. 'Shitloads.'

"Aw, c'mon..."

'The thing about servants, though, is that they don't die, which gives them ample time to hone their abilities. Suffice to say, they can become very powerful. Frighteningly so.'

"Those other reapers you mentioned... the ones involved in wars..."

'Yeah. This is the main reason why their servants are so dangerous. And why we will keep our distance.'

"Right..."

Training was simple enough. It required concentration, Garovel told him. Focus, clear his mind, and begin by imagining simple metallic structures. He tried a sword, but Garovel said that was too complicated, so he imagined a cube. Garovel said that was also too complicated because of the straight edges and perfect symmetry. He relegated himself to an amorphous lump, in the end.

Garovel told him to maintain this state of meditation for as long as possible without letting his mind wander into anything else. He managed an hour and sixteen minutes. The reaper seemed impressed, though Hector thought he could do better.

Afterwards, the only discernible progress seemed to be that he could make the specks disappear and reappear. And seeing as he hadn't thought to try beforehand, he wasn't sure if that really qualified as progress.

He wanted to try again, but there wouldn't be enough time before he had to leave for school. Instead, he stood and went for his bag. He pulled out the welding mask.

'I guess that's yours now, unless you've thought of a way to explain that bullet hole.'

He rolled the mask over in his hands. "This... isn't..."

'Hmm?'

"I need more than... just a mask... don't I?"

'What do you mean?'

"My brain is my weak point," he said. "I need something strong... something that will actually protect my head..."

'Ah! That would be fantastic. But what, exactly? And not to sound pessimistic, but I don't see how you could get your hands on anything that strong. Your metal might serve one day, but not anytime soon.'

"I have to rejoin the carpentry club."

Garovel's brow receded. 'You're just full of ideas today, aren't you? It's starting to annoy me.'

"I'm sorry... I'll be sure to act stupider from now on."

'Most of the elements in the periodic table are metals, you know.'

"That's very interesting, Garovel."

'You piece of shit,' he laughed. 'I have thousands of years of knowledge and experience.'

"I'm sure that'll come in handy one day."

'I hope you start shitting metal turds.'

"That... th-that's not really gonna happen, right...?"

'Beats me. I don't know anything useful.'

He readied himself for school. He was a bit dubious about bringing the mask with him, wondering what might happen if someone caught him with it, but he decided to take the risk. In the event of some emergency, he would be glad to have it.

To Hector's surprise, Garovel accompanied him.

'I thought you had leads to chase down at the police station,' Hector said.

'What, are you trying to get rid of me?'

'Y-you know I'm not...'

'Hmm. I guess I do.' Garovel was quiet for a moment. 'Honestly, I'm concerned about you. After what happened, I think you should rest a bit. We both should. Because if we go out there again, and things go badly again, I don't want you to... well...'

'Lose hope?'

'Is that so ridiculous?'

Hector eyed the other students on the bus. They were rowdy this morning, hassling the driver and throwing paper. 'I'm terrified of making things worse again...'

'As am I.'

He met Garovel's gaze. 'So... what, then? We just... we just wait?'

'Until we're ready. Yeah. Rest is important, Hector, even for us. Take it when you can get it.'

'But school just seems so... insignificant, I guess. Like... why am I even bothering...?'

'I think you're looking at this the wrong way.'

'It wouldn't surprise me...'

'School is a respite.'

Hector eyed the reaper doubtfully.

'Comparatively, that is. You're probably going to see many terrible things, Hector. But your time in school is a chance to relieve yourself of that mindset. For a little while, at least.'

'Hmm...'

'Moreover, school could be of profound help to us in the future.'

'Um... I find that hard to believe, Garovel...'

'Well, perhaps not the methods. Your grades are unimportant. For our purposes, you don't need a well-paying job, and going to college would actually be a major hindrance. You won't likely have enough time for proper studying, let alone sitting through lectures.'

Hector laughed under his breath. 'It's a good thing my teachers can't hear you.'

'Though, if I'm completely honest, I actually would like you to receive a higher education, albeit more slowly. Perhaps one or two classes at a time. A small enough workload that it won't clash with our more important goals.'

'I'm getting mixed messages here...'

'We respond by making ourselves better,' the reaper said. 'School can be a major source of information, if you allow it to be.'

Hector bowed his head at that.

'I don't think I need to remind you how important information can be to us.'

'No, you don't...'

'You're right to be skeptical, I suppose,' Garovel said. 'Most of what you learn will probably never help us in the slightest. But there will undoubtedly be a small amount which WILL be useful. You can't really know when or where you'll acquire it, but for our undertakings, it's entirely worth the effort. Wouldn't you agree?'

He stared distantly at the seat in front of him. 'Some tiny thing could be the difference... between saving someone and... not.'

'I've made my point, then?'

'Yeah...'

'Good.'

Hector waded through the day like bog water. Everything seemed a painful bore, but he persevered. Listening to everything that was said in class still felt like a gigantic waste of time, but he hoped that feeling would go away if he ignored it long enough. He didn't know how Garovel could float around him so patiently the whole time.

'Alright,' Garovel said between classes. 'I'm going to help you make a new friend.'

Hector shut his locker. 'I don't like the sound of this...'

'Too bad. Four hours, we've been here. I've watched you walk past about five hundred different people and not say hello to a single one of them.'

'Is that all it takes to make a new friend? Saying hello?'

'It's a start. Real friendship takes time.'

Hector tried not to sigh. 'W-what do you want me to do?'

'Don't look so scared. We'll do something easy. Just find someone you know and say hi to them.'

'...Right now?'

'Right now.'

He grimaced and looked among the passing faces. He knew quite a lot of them, actually, but he wasn't jumping at the chance to tell that to Garovel.

'How about her?' said Garovel. He pointed to blond Jenny Friedman, with whom Hector had attended middle school.

'Fuck no!'

'Why not? What's wrong with her?'

'She's a girl!'

'What?! I had no idea! Eww! Keep her away from me, Hector! Don't let her touch me with her girl-cooties!'

He pursed his lips. 'I... just... agh... There's just no way... Talking to a girl is way more difficult...'

'Why?'

'Because! They--! They're--! I don't know! It just is!'

'Fine. What about him, then?' The reaper pointed to Micah Chamberlain. 'I remember him from the other day. Seemed nice enough.'

Hector's face soured as he strained for an excuse. Nothing sprung to mind, and he gave a defeated sigh. 'Alright, I'll... try...'

'You're not moving.'

'I'm... just... waiting for the right moment...'

'There isn't one. Go on.'

'B-but... uh... what do I say after hello?'

'Don't worry about it. I'll help you.'

He made his way through the crowd to Micah's locker. When the other young man turned and saw him standing there, Hector was so afraid of looking like a deer in the headlights that he just blurted the word out. "Hello."

"Hi," said Micah, friendly but a bit hesitant. "Uh... who are you?"

'Fuck me, what do I say?'

'Your name. Say your name.'

"H-Hector Goffe."

"Oh! You're the guy I accidentally hit during the food fight! I'm really sorry about that. I meant to find you afterwards and apologize properly, but I forgot. I hope you're not too mad."

Hector was the deer now.

'Tell him you're not mad.'

"N-no... I'm not mad."

"I didn't ruin your shirt, did I?"

"I've, uh... I've had worse..."

'Pfft.'

"Well, uh, I'm Micah."

"Yeah, I know. We... we, um... have a couple classes together."

"Really? I never noticed. I guess that makes sense, though. You seem like the quiet type."

'Pfft!'

"Yeah... I have a little trouble... uh... speaking my mind..."

'A little, he says!'

"You should come sit with me and my friends at lunch tomorrow. I'll introduce you to everybody. Unless you'd rather not. It's fine, either way. Hey, you alright? You look a bit red in the face."

Hector averted his eyes.

"Whoa, are you blushing? I've never seen a black person blush before. That's pretty awesome. Kinda hard to notice, at first. Holy crap, not anymore, though. You're like a tomato, now." Micah laughed. "Am I making it worse? Should I stop talking about it? I'll stop talking about it."

Hector just stood there awkwardly, fighting the urge to flee in abject horror.

"But, um, yeah. Come sit with us tomorrow. I promise not to throw things at you. Anyway, I gotta get going. Seeya later?"

He managed a nod. He leaned against the row of lockers after Micah was gone.

'That went surprisingly well,' said Garovel. 'What do you think?'

'He's way too friendly,' Hector thought, wide-eyed. 'This can only end in disaster...'

'Oh, just calm down, drama king. If you don't like him, that's fine. There are plenty of other people you can be friends with.'

'No, that's not it at all... I mean... I've, um... uh...'

'C'mon. Spit it out. You can do it.'

'Please... stop... patronizing me... I'm trying my best here...'

'Sorry. I know you are. What were you trying to say?'

'I've always wanted a friend who was... uh... well, friendly. I mean, like, y'know... the opposite of me... Not that, uh, I didn't want any other type of friend, but just. Really outgoing people... they always intimidate me, but...'

'I see. So you're thinking it's too good to be true.'

'Basically, yeah...'

Garovel shrugged. 'Maybe it is. Maybe he's secretly a total dick.'

'What the...? This was your idea!'

'Yeah, and it's worth seeing through. But you still shouldn't get your hopes up too much. Better to be pleasantly surprised than bitterly disappointed.'

Hector had to nod at that as he started for his next class.

At the day's end, it was time to pay a visit to the carpentry club once again. Strangely, he hadn't been dreading it. He knew it would be terrible, but something about the necessity of it, the unavoidability, made it easy to just accept.

He entered the workroom to the sight of a dozen familiar faces and a handful of new ones. He heard the chatter dull as a few people noticed him. Lance Alexander approached him straight away.

"Please tell me you came to return the mask."

"Sorry," Hector said. "I lost it."

"Geez. Well, could you at least tell that to Ms. Trent? She didn't believe me when I told her you took it. She gave me detention."

Hector nodded. "I'll tell her."

Lance eyed him. "I'm sure you won't mind if I go with you."

"Just... show me where she is."

Lance led him into the back room where the club instructor sat at her desk, marking quiz papers. She looked up as they entered. "Hector?" she said. "What brings you here?"

"It's like I told you," said Lance. "He's the one who took the mask. Then he went and lost it."

"Is this true?"

He gave another nod. "Yeah."

Ms. Trent glared at Lance. "Did you bully Hector into saying this?"

"Of course not!"

"You'd better tell me the truth now. If I find out later, I swear to goddess I will have you suspended."

"I didn't bully anyone!"

"He's telling the truth," said Hector. "He, uh... he tried to stop me, actually." 'Why does everyone think I'm being bullied?'

'You do look very bulliable.'

"Alright," said Ms. Trent. "Lance, you're off the hook. Hector, you have three days' detention, and you'll have to pay a fine to replace the mask."

Lance took a relieved breath and left.

"Uhh... but I don't have any money..."

"Then your parents will have to pay."

Hector frowned. "W-what if they don't?"

"They'll pay if they want you to graduate. The school will withhold your diploma if you have any outstanding fines."

He didn't think that would make a difference, but he kept his doubts to himself. He could worry about it later. "I, um... I also came here for another reason."

"What would that be?"

"I'd like to rejoin the club."

"Oh, is that so? Well, all you have to do is start showing up again. I'm still not sure why you stopped."

"Ah... just... personal reasons..."

Ms. Trent wasn't the type to pry. Or perhaps she just didn't care very much. Hector had never quite figured her out. But whatever the reason, she didn't push the issue and let him return to the workroom with the others.

Four or five students sat around each of the black tables, absorbed in various group projects, with a few extra people hovering around the machinery at the back of the room.

He approached the nearest group, but as soon as he got close, three people left. Only Lance and a guy he didn't recognize stayed, but after a moment of apparent confusion, the stranger followed the others.

"Popular as ever," said Lance.

"You're... not going with them?" said Hector.

Lance looked at him for a long moment. "You could've really screwed me over, you know."

Hector didn't say anything.

"Let me know if you need help with something," said Lance, and then he left as well.

With the whole table to himself, Hector glanced around again. Only the new members spared him the occasional look, and he could see a couple of them asking the others about him.

'What's with this atmosphere?' Garovel said. 'It's annoying.'

'It doesn't matter...'

'Want me to suck their souls out through their eyeballs?'

'You can't do that.'

'No. I could try, though.'

He smirked faintly.

'I'll get you to tell me what happened sooner or later.' At Hector's persistent silence, he changed the subject. 'Anyhow, are you sure you can make something for your head here?'

'It won't be anything amazing, but yeah... I just need some materials.' He paused, blinking. 'Shit. I completely forgot...'

'Hmm?'

He looked toward the corner storage room, around which was a caged enclosure with a hatch and a countertop. 'I'm an idiot. The materials aren't free... If I want some metal, I'll have to pay for it... or steal it, I guess... but I really don't want to do that again...'

'Aha. That time already, huh? I was wondering when we'd need to find some startup capital.'

#  ~Ch. 7~

# 'O, truculent fortune...!'

'How many guys are there?'

'I counted forty-three. No, wait. I see another one.'

Hector furrowed his brow at the evening sky. 'Uh... holy shit... I mean, are you sure I can take forty dudes?'

'Of course you can. Probably. Oh, hey, it's that ponytail guy.'

'Ponytail guy?'

'You remember. You knocked his teeth out. I'm surprised he's out of jail already. It's barely been two days since he was arrested.'

'Perks of being on Rofal's payroll, I guess...'

'Even so, two days is a bit ridiculous. The police force must be more corrupt than we thought. Maybe lawyers, as well.'

Hector eyed the building another time. It didn't look like a drug den. It looked like a bowling alley. And it probably was, most of the time. The men loitering around the entrance were an indicator, however. They shooed away potential customers, despite the neon sign illuminating the street.

'Ah,' Garovel said, 'looks like Ponytail is here to move the money. Smart. This is probably why the police can't seem to find any of these cash houses. As soon as they start getting close, I bet someone in the department warns Rofal's people. Must be why there are so many of them here right now. They seem to be in a hurry. You should probably come introduce yourself now.'

'Will do.' He put his mask on and started down the street. The men at the front all stared at him as he passed, and when he circled around toward the back entrance, a few of them broke away to follow him. Several more were already waiting behind the building, alongside a parked truck with its engine running. A circle of Rofal's muscle grew around him.

'I, uh... I went around back,' he told Garovel.

"What are you doing here?"

"What's with the mask? Looking for a beating?"

"Hey, didn't Swank mention a masked guy?"

"Is that you, asshole? Huh? Say something!"

Garovel appeared from the wall and reached for him. 'I'm not sure I approve of all these new friends you've made, Hector.'

The strength blazed through him. He took a deep breath and moved for the door. The first man to stand in his way ate pavement. The others all took a step back at how quickly their comrade had been left bleeding on the ground, but after a moment, they seemed to find their courage again.

Three rushed him at once. He pummeled two into each other and took a metal baseball bat to the back of the head. When he turned around, shaking the disorientation away, the guy who hit him staggered back. Hector ripped the bat away and returned the favor, lobbing the man into four of his buddies.

They started pulling knives, and in the ensuing mayhem, he received six stab wounds, all in the gut, chest, and back. When there were only a few left, he was a bit surprised to see that instead of pulling guns on him, they just ran. Looking down at the blades stuck in his torso, he supposed he could understand their sentiment. He decided to leave the knives in a while longer.

Groaning or unconscious thugs riddled the alleyway, draped over the staircase, the side of the parked truck, and for one lucky winner, a 10-foot brick wall. Hector held onto the baseball bat as he went inside the building.

The first person he saw seemed more confused than aggressive, and Hector was kind enough to wait until the man attacked before punching him into next week.

'The money is in the rearmost room,' Garovel told him. 'Hold on a minute.' The reaper phased through the wall while Hector waited in the dimly lit hallway. 'Six men. Oh, Ponytail is talking about Colt. Rumors, he's saying... about Colt being a psychopath... but at the same time... forced to work for Rofal?'

'Wait, what...?'

'I'm listening... Bah. They're talking about food now. They want to go get pizza. At gunpoint? What the hell is wrong with these people? Please come stomp their heads in.'

He flung the door open and kicked the first man he saw across the room.

"What the fuck?!"

"Oh, shit! You!"

Hector leapt on his second victim and knocked him out cold. Now the guns were out, but the hail of bullets didn't stop him from reaching the third and fourth men and clapping their skulls together. Only Ponytail and another thug remained, fumbling too much to reload their weapons, their spare magazines clattering to the floor.

Hector stood in front of them for a moment, considering what to do next. Bashing their faces in hardly seemed necessary at this point, and besides, Ponytail's face was still swollen blue and purple.

He walked up and pulled their guns away from them. They both just stared at him, wide-eyed and cornered.

"What the hell are you?" said Ponytail. "I heard Colt killed you."

Hector eyed the table full of duffel bags in the middle of the room. He slung all seven bags over his shoulder with one hand.

'You're not going to stomp their heads in, too?' The reaper sounded disappointed. 'Well, at least threaten them before you leave.'

"I-I... uh... d-don't..."

'Hector, c'mon. Scare them. Just yell or something.'

'Yell? I can't... I don't... that just isn't--agh...'

Ponytail ran for the door.

Hector was on him in a heartbeat and kneed him back into the corner. "Please don't run..."

'Wait a minute,' said Garovel. 'Okay, no yelling. Just talk to them very quietly. Whisper, if you need to.'

'Really? B-but, uh...'

'Trust me. Speak very slowly and deliberately. Make them strain to hear you. Oh, and be polite, too. Say please, like just now.'

'Uh...' "Please tell your boss... that I'm coming for him..."

'Oh, that was good! Tell them that anyone else who gets in your way will be visiting the morgue.'

'But I don't want to kill them...'

'Of course, but THEY don't need to know that.'

'Ah, okay...' "And anyone who gets in my way... will be paying a visit to the morgue..."

Both of their faces went white.

'Aha, look at them! This is way better than yelling.'

'You're starting to creep me out, Garovel...'

'Me? You just about made them piss themselves with creepiness.'

He left the room, barely squeezing all the bags through the door. He knew there were still more men in the building, but he didn't see them before hearing the gunshot. The bullet tore through his jaw and ripped the mask from his face. His severed chin and tongue splattered to the floor in a gory mess.

Blood and drool oozed from the gaping hole in his face. Hector just turned and locked eyes with the shooter. It was a young guy, not much older than himself, holding a magnum unsteadily with both hands, but when he saw Hector, he dropped his gun and stumbled back.

More men rushed in from the entrance, but when they saw Hector, they all stopped.

"Holy fuck..."

"What is that thing?"

Hector's undead glare seemed enough to prevent any of them from taking another step. He waited a bit to see if they still wanted to fight, but when they merely kept staring, Hector picked up his dented mask and left.

As Garovel reconstructed Hector's jawbone, he stood at the other end of the street, waiting again to see if any of them would pursue. None did.

'I'm going to follow Ponytail back to Rofal. Once we know where his headquarters is, we'll be able to launch an assault at our leisure. You know your way home, right?'

His mouth completely reformed, he said, "Yeah."

The reaper looked at him a moment, bony fingers hovering in front of Hector's face. 'I'm going to bring the soreness back to let your body recover while I'm away. Are you ready?'

Hector groaned. "Go ahead..."

Pain exploded through his mouth.

"Ffff--! Kuh! It feels like my face's been ripped off!"

'Well. It was. Actually.'

He dropped to one knee, clutching his mouth with his free hand. "Fucking...! Agh...!"

'On the bright side, I'm sure the rest of your body feels completely painless by comparison.'

He stood and started walking again, trying to stifle his continued groans. "Fuck this hurts...!"

'Alright, potty mouth.'

"Fuck you! Agh! This is the worst one yet!"

Garovel laughed. 'Only joking. You should be swearing. It'll help you cope with the pain.'

"Fuckface!"

'Okay. You don't have to be insulting about it.'

"Just... ugh..."

Garovel floated off to go find Ponytail, and Hector was left to grumble his way through the night by himself. It wasn't long before he heard Garovel laughing again, however. 'It's fair to say we've stirred things up here. You left your chin behind, and it's freaking them out.'

'Oh... should I have... uh...' The pain made it difficult to even think straight. 'Should I have taken that with me?'

'Nah.'

'They won't, er... try to... study it and reverse engineer my power or something?'

'What.'

'I mean... uh... like... I dunno...'

'You're afraid they'll unlock the secret of immortality by studying your chin?'

'Is that... stupid?'

'Um. It's just impossible. Your flesh is just flesh. I'm what makes you unkillable. They could study your body all they like, and they wouldn't learn anything.'

'Okay... good.'

'You have a strange imagination by the way.'

'I'm just... trying to be diligent...'

'Right.'

'Uh... so... how much money do you think we got, anyway?'

'They're talking about that now, actually. Well. Yelling about it. Ooh, seventy grand, Ponytail says.'

Hector's eyes widened.

'Looks like Rofal consolidated several weeks worth of cash here from all over the city. I wonder if he was planning a big purchase.'

'Seventy thousand troas... what do I even do with this kind of money...?'

'That's our funding for critical purposes. No spending it on booze and hookers.'

Hector snorted. 'What about drugs? Meth and heroin are okay, right?'

'Oh yeah. Let's just give it all back to Rofal while we're at it.'

'Are you, um... er... are you sure we can even spend this money? Isn't it, like... being tracked by the government or something?'

'No. We didn't rob a bank. We just won't be able to make large purchases at licensed vendors without drawing attention.'

'R-right...'

'We could have stolen from Rofal's gun running business,' said Garovel, 'or his car theft ring, but money doesn't change hands nearly as often in those. And stealing from the prostitution business would have probably done more harm to the prostitutes than to Rofal.'

'But what if, uh... Rofal tracks the money himself?'

'Hmm. Fair point. You should stop and check for devices.'

'Alright.' He found an alley and put the bags down to search them all. Stacks of troas filled each, more money than Hector had ever seen in his life. A single-troa note was a blue-and-white paper bill with the bearded face of King Martinus I at the center. His great granddaughter currently wore the crown. 'I'm not seeing anything that looks like a tracking device...'

'Good. Store the money somewhere away from your house, just to be safe.'

'Okay.'

'Ponytail is finally leaving. I'm in pursuit.'

#  ~Ch. 8~

# 'Where an Aberration doth grow...'

Beneath the city, below the pipes and sewers and miles of cable, lay the mansion. Old wood and cold stone sat stark against the lamplight along the path to the entrance. Its turreted roof bore a pillar at the center which led up into Brighton, but the elevator therein was reserved for the Rofal family. Jeremiah Colt had to use an entrance hidden beneath a liquor store, a staircase into a lift the size of a broom closet.

The guards at the entrance stood upon his arrival and searched him, relieving him of his firearm and three knives.

Colt didn't much care for the way Rofal's men looked at him as he passed them in the hall. Whenever he caught one staring, he would meet their gaze evenly until they averted their eyes. Geoffrey was a different story, however.

"Mr. Colt! I was hoping to see you!" Geoffrey was a strange creature. Not yet a grown man, but he often wore tailored black suits and ties with even blacker undershirts. His dark hair was always sharply cut and combed, and his pointed eyebrows made him look perpetually and indignantly attentive.

Colt wondered if ignoring him would make him go away.

"I heard you killed five people the other day," said Geoffrey. "How was it? Did they scream a lot?"

He figured not. "No. They didn't even know what happened."

"Ah. I see. Efficiency. That's less fun, but I can appreciate the preference."

Colt squinted at him as they walked. "What do you want, kid?"

Geoffrey's brow receded a little. "Only to get to know you better, Mr. Colt. I like you. We're kindred spirits, I feel. You're not like the dullards my uncle usually has working for him."

"The dullards I used to make a habit of killing, you mean."

Geoffrey's smile was full of teeth. "My uncle says you're a true savage."

"You should hear what he says about you."

"Oh? Do tell."

"That you're an irreverent pain in the ass with no mind for the consequences of your actions."

Geoffrey laughed. "He worries too much. Still doesn't trust me to handle my own affairs. Well, he's only human, I suppose."

It was then that Colt noticed Geoffrey was carrying something.

A severed human hand.

Colt at once remembered why he loathed this person. "Whose hand is that?"

"Oh, do you want it? I was thinking about giving it to you, actually. I have the other one, as well."

It was a small hand, thin fingers with long nails and pallid skin, preserved, likely taken from a corpse. "Who does it belong to?" he said, even less patient now.

"The girl you killed. Melissa Mallory."

Colt ground his teeth and glowered. "Why do you have it?"

Geoffrey tilted his head, confused. "Because I wanted it, obviously. It makes a nice souvenir, don't you think?"

"How did you even get it? You're not allowed out of the building."

"That would be telling."

"A year ago, I would have killed you where you stood for this."

Geoffrey smiled, and his eyes widened manically. Eagerly. "Perhaps we are not as similar as I thought, Mr. Colt. But then, I can't say I am disappointed. This may be even better."

"And people think I'm psychotic."

"You should be glad," said Geoffrey. "I wouldn't let you talk to me that way if I did not like you, Mr. Colt."

"I'm not afraid of your uncle, idiot."

"Oh, I know. Honestly, that is the most annoying thing about being his nephew. Everyone thinks they should be afraid of him. It tries my patience, sometimes. People are afraid of you, though, aren't they? How do you manage that, exactly?"

"Get the fuck away from me before I break both your legs and throw you in your uncle's pool."

"Intimidation. Charming. I'll keep that in mind." Surprisingly, he actually left Colt alone. The other people in the hallway were quick to get out of Geoffrey's way.

Joseph Rofal's chamber was just ahead, two guards at the door, Molester-stache and Baldie, as Colt remembered them. He entered after they patted him down.

Rofal and Swank were having a heated conversation. Rofal ripped the glass lamp off his desk and threw it against the wall. "That money was for a seat at the table!" He saw Colt approaching. "You! This is your fault! You said you killed that asshole!"

Colt raised an eyebrow and looked at the swollen-faced Swank. "What asshole?"

"A guy in a mask showed up and stole seventy grand earlier tonight. Same guy I saw before."

"How do you know it was the same guy?" Colt asked.

"Well, I guess I don't, but he was definitely wearing the same welding mask. I saw the bullet hole that I put in it."

"Bullet hole." Colt thought back. "Yeah, I remember that, too. Bottom of the mask?"

"Yeah."

"Couldn't be the same guy, though. I definitely killed him."

"I don't know," said Swank, rubbing his purple cheek. "That guy ain't human. We must have shot him at least five times, stabbed him like six. He had knives sticking out of his fucking chest, man! Didn't even slow him down. I have twenty men out of commission. Broken arms, legs, ribs. Fucker gave Rogers a concussion the other day."

Rofal glared at him. "This is your responsibility, Colt."

"What the fuck do you want me to do?" said Colt. "Do you even know where he is?"

Swank shook his head and looked at their boss. "He said he was coming for you. And no disrespect to Colt, but I'm not sure he'd stand much of a chance, anyhow. The guy took down, what, an eighth of all our muscle? In the span of a few days?"

Rofal sat down. "Leave us," he told Swank, who promptly exited. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his red and gray hair. The weathered lines of his face made his expression all the more foul.

"You sure Swank wasn't followed?"

"He said he wasn't, but who knows. Do you remember anything about this person? You said he was young."

"Looked like a teenager. Seemed really intimidated by me. Before he started beating the shit out of everyone, anyway. But it can't be the same guy. He must have had a partner."

"Then what's their objective?"

Colt shrugged. He couldn't help grinning. "Can you think of any reason why someone would want to hurt you?"

Rofal did not look amused. "You are obviously not the person to discuss this with. Tell me how your assignment went."

"I contacted some of my old colleagues in the department. Told them I was innocent, like you said. I'm pretty sure none of them believed me."

"I didn't expect them to. But now they will be conflicted. And perhaps more malleable."

Colt furrowed his brow. "You mean to coerce them."

"Empires are not built on alliances. They are built on conquests."

Colt just looked disgusted.

"Three of your fellow officers and two teenagers," Rofal reminded him. "And you felt nothing when you killed them, no? I'm sure a bit of surreption won't pose too much of a moral dilemma for you."

He stared back coldly. "I expect I'll feel something when I kill you."

"Careful, Colt. Do not jeopardize the understanding we have."

"I apologize," he said through his teeth.

"I'm aware of your current hatred for me," Rofal said. "But in time, I believe you will see the situation as I do."

"Fat chance," said Colt.

"Is it really so ridiculous? With you, I finally have someone reliable who can never betray me. With me, you finally have an employer who appreciates your finer talents. An employer who will not hesitate to show his generosity."

"You have a strange idea of generosity."

"I like guarantees, Colt. A man in my position shouldn't trust anyone when he has the opportunity not to. I'm sure you can understand that. But when I have my guarantee--" He placed a briefcase on the desk. It was full of cash. "--I am free to show my gratitude."

Colt eyed the money. By the size of the bills, there must have been at least five thousand troas. "Money isn't enough," he said.

"Of course. I believe you have earned another two hours."

Colt took the briefcase. "Where are they?"

"Today, they're here." Rofal motioned toward the broad double doors behind him, ornately wooden with brass lamps on either side. "Tomorrow, they'll be somewhere else."

Colt proceeded through into what could only be Rofal's bedchamber. Four guards looked up as he entered, and then put away their cards, book, and newspaper in order to watch him in silence. He approached the crib in the middle of the room.

Two babies lay sleeping, twins boy and girl. Colt took a relieved breath. He could not smile at them. Not here. He touched his son's forehead and then his daughter's.

Two hours, he had. It wasn't enough. He wanted to spend it as efficiently as possible, but he didn't know how to do that. So before it drove him mad, he decided to just sit down and watch them sleep.

Garovel merely continued observing.

#  ~Ch. 9~

# 'Forbearant soul, gird thyself for war...'

With all his new monetary concerns, Hector had nearly forgotten about the invitation to have lunch with Micah and his friends. On the one hand, he was glad that he didn't end up a nervous wreck through his first few classes, and on the other hand, when he did remember, the sudden fear that came over him was akin to petrifaction.

Micah, Nathan, Janine, Sheryl, and Gregory were all their names; they were quick to introduce themselves. Hector had been less so, but struggled through it nonetheless. His face still throbbed something terrible, but after everything he had been through in the past few days, hiding the pain in front of everyone was easy enough.

"So what do you do for fun, Hector?" Micah seemed to be the resident icebreaker.

"Uh... f-fun...?" The question had him dead to rights.

"Yeah. You know. What do you like to do in your spare time?"

'Garovel, save me...' He could hear the reaper laughing.

'You don't want to tell them you beat up murderers and drug dealers?'

'Garovel!'

'Just pose the question back at them and listen to their answers. Then go from there.'

"Um... what do you guys do for fun?"

"Oh," said Micah, looking at the others, "well, as a group, we like to go to movies and stuff together, but they're expensive, so we can't always go."

"Yeah, but parks are free. Nathan, Sheryl, and Gregory all have dogs that they like to take."

"You remember that time when Duro started humping that one lady having a picnic?"

"Duro--that's Gregory's dog--he's massive. That lady was freaking out like you wouldn't believe. I thought she--"

'Holy shit, Garovel, you're a genius...'

'You're welcome.'

Micah looked at him. "But you never answered the question, Hector."

'Fuck!'

'C'mon. Just make something up.'

"I... uh... I like to, uh... ah..." He could feel himself turning red.

'Tell them you're into metalwork. That's kinda true.'

"I like to work with... metal..."

"Metal?" said Sheryl.

"Yeah, like... welding... and stuff..."

"That's cool," said Gregory. "What kind of stuff do you make?"

"Ah... I, uh..."

Sheryl giggled. "Micah, where did you find this guy? He's so shy--it's adorable! Makes me want to just wrap him up in a blanket and take him home with me!" She took his arm in both of hers.

Hector jolted away from her and out of his seat. His chair toppled over, and everyone at the table stared at him. "Ah--" He flushed even redder than before. "S-sorry... I just--ah. Y-you're all s-so nice... w-we should definitely do this again, but, uh... I-I just remembered that I... uh... I gotta go." He fled.

In the hall, navigating through the crowd, he looked back to see if any of them were following, but he only saw Garovel.

'What the hell was that?' the reaper said.

'I... I-I don't know, she just... she surprised me... and I... ugh... I really fucked that up, didn't I?'

'No, I'm sure it's fine. Just a bit unexpected. Do you also have a phobia of women?'

'N-no, I think it's just... people in general. Maybe, um... maybe girls slightly more than guys, but, um...'

Garovel sighed.

'I mean... it was th-the physical contact...'

Garovel sighed harder.

'If I'd known! That she! Was gonna--! I wouldn't have--! Agh!'

'Okay, I get it. You have trouble with friendly people. Relax.'

He rested against his locker and took a long breath.

'That's it. You're safe now. The big bad girl can't get you anymore.'

'You... you fuck...' He gave a weak laugh. 'Why am I like this, Garovel...? Why is nothing ever easy...?'

'I don't know, Hector. But I can't say I dislike this part of you.'

'R-really? I thought it annoyed you...'

'No, no. If anything, I get annoyed FOR you. Not AT you.'

'Huh...'

'It's important you understand that. I can't really be annoyed at you when I see you trying so hard all the time.'

He nodded. 'Thanks... I guess I sorta knew that a little... but I, uh... yeah...'

'Now you know it a lot.'

Later in the day, he paid off his equipment fine. He'd stuffed a thousand or so troa in his bag before coming to school, which was obviously more than he needed, but he wanted to be prepared. It did feel a bit odd carrying so much money around school with him. He wasn't sure how he would explain the money if someone searched his bag, so he kept the strap around his arm or wrist at all times.

He bought a few sheets of metal from the carpentry club's storeroom and settled at a table all to himself.

'You're going to make a helmet out of that? It looks pretty flimsy.

'Thicker metal would need to be melted down and recast. Which... would be great, but... we don't have a furnace. I need to weld multiple layers of this metal together if I want something resilient.'

'Sounds tedious.'

'Thinner metal is easier to cut, and I should be able to shape it with just my hands and a hammer. But I need to make sure the measurements are perfect with each layer or the welding won't be very strong.'

'You seem to know what you're doing.'

'I have some experience, and... I, uh... I did some reading last night. But, um... even though I know what to do, I'm not sure how well it'll turn out, honestly... If I screw up too badly with the hammer, it might not even fit around my head...'

'So you need to concentrate, is what you're saying.'

'Uh... yeah...'

He began drafting. He measured the circumference of his head in five different places, then the distance from the far corner of one eye to the other. He reckoned that a single slit for both eyes together would save cutting time and hopefully provide better visibility. Ear holes wouldn't be necessary, he decided, nor would holes for the mouth and nose, but there was one major problem: the jaw.

Shielding the area under his jaw was absolutely vital. His all-too-brief fight with Colt assured him of that point.

He decided to just cut off the bottom half of the face completely and then screw it back on so that it could swing freely over the top half. It would look like some kind of gigantic underbite, but it would protect below his chin while still allowing him to fit his head into the thing.

Lance ventured over after a while. "What're you making?" he asked.

"...A, uh... a helmet. Or helm, I guess."

"Oh, that's awesome," said Lance, eyeing the sketches. "It's too bad you're not allowed to make a sword to go with it. That'd be amazing."

"I don't think I'd be able to forge a very good sword, anyway," said Hector. "It's really difficult. I mean, people used to do that as their entire profession."

"Yeah. Swordsmiths were pretty rare, though. You'd have to be friggin' legendary to make a living off of swords alone."

"Yeah..."

"It would be amazing, though."

"Yeah."

"Maybe I could make something else to go with your helm. Like a shield. Oh, or some gauntlets."

Hector raised his brow at him. "You can make gauntlets? That sounds so difficult. I mean... the links around the fingers would be brutal..."

"I bet I could do it," said Lance. "Maybe."

"W-well, that sounds awesome. I'll, uh... I'll help you if I can."

"Cool." And Lance went off to work, leaving Hector slightly dumbfounded at what just happened.

He had to get permission from Ms. Trent to use a table saw, and she had to supervise while he worked. There was only one saw with a carbide-tipped blade, but it didn't get used much since most of the students worked with wood.

And as he eyed the blade, he realized he could save himself more time if he forewent the eyehole as its own cut and just merged it with the cut for the jaw pieces. He quickly remarked the metal and set about cutting. The carbide made short work of it, and soon enough, instead of three sheets of metal, he had six separate pieces.

A brief trip to the miller gave him the holes needed for the jaw. Next he had to mold the three head pieces into similar enough shapes that they could be securely welded together; and then do the same for the jaw pieces. He started hammering.

This would be the most time-consuming stage by far, Hector knew. Welding would also take a while, assuming he managed to accomplish this part properly, but there was a tremendous amount of measuring and remeasuring and hammering and rehammering needed in order to achieve the desired shapes.

'It's time we discuss what to do about Colt, don't you think?'

Hector didn't stop hammering. 'I want to help him.'

Garovel paused. 'Are you sure about that? He killed four innocent people, you know.'

'Yeah... I know... and I'm not sure I can forgive that, but... you said he has children...'

'I did, yes. But being a father doesn't absolve him of his crimes.'

He stopped to remeasure. The forehead was still too broad. 'He's trying to protect them,' Hector thought, 'and even if... even if he doesn't deserve our help... his children still do... I mean, don't they?'

The reaper stared at him a moment. 'You continue to surprise me, Hector.'

He felt the blush coming on and stopped his hammer before he screwed up the next hit.

'Hmm. A rescue mission, then.'

'Yeah...'

'Then I suppose we'd be fools not to attempt an alliance with Colt.'

'Eh... you really think he'll listen?'

'I don't know. His circumstances are uniquely precarious. It's hard to say how he'll respond to anything at this point. But I don't think offering him our aid will pose any risk to us, so we might as well try it.'

'Okay...'

'I'll go keep tabs on him while you work. Tell me when you're done.'

'Right. But, uh... I'm gonna be here a while...'

'If you have to leave before it's done, then so be it. But keep at it until I tell you otherwise.' Garovel left, and Hector returned to his work.

He knew he would need to stay extremely late if he wanted to finish the helm. Thankfully, this was a common occurrence in the club. Members would routinely hang around several hours after other clubs wrapped up, and oddly, Ms. Trent never seemed to mind very much. As long as there were at least a couple of students still around, she would just stay in her office and read a book or some such thing, employing ear plugs for any machining noise.

It was convenient, yes, but Hector knew there were other reasons why some of his peers did not want to go home.

At length, he felt the shapes were as good as he could get them. He lathered an adhesive between the layers of the metal and positioned them into place. He checked out a welding torch, apron, gloves, and mask, and then started melting the edges together. He added lines down the center of the metal as well, both inside and out.

After a while, Ms. Trent came out of her office. "It's gotten dark out, Hector. I'm closing up shop."

He released the trigger on the torch and lifted his mask. "I-I just need a few more minutes. I'm almost done."

"Done?" She approached and assessed his work. "You didn't even have the drafting started when you came in today, right?"

"Eh, y-yeah..."

"Impressive. A bit rough still, but you work quickly."

"Ah... th-thank you... I just... I need to get it done."

"Need?"

"I mean... I really want to get it done."

"Hmm. Aren't you tired?"

He shook his head.

"You certainly know how to stay focused; I'll give you that." She smirked faintly. "A few more minutes. But then we're outta here. I've got an important home life, you know. My dogs need to be fed."

"Yes, ma'am..."

He finished up the welding, screwed the jaw into place, stuffed the helm in his bag, and exited the building with Ms. Trent.

"You okay to get home?" she asked.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure? We're not supposed to give students rides, but I can't just let you walk home in the dark."

"No, really. I, uh... I mean, uh... my parents should be here soon."

"Then you won't mind if I wait with you."

He grimaced. "Uh... th-that's not necessary."

"Oh, I insist," she said.

He sighed.

"They're not coming, are they?"

He had to think of something. Lying wasn't working. He decided to try a version of the truth. "No, they're not," he said. "I'm not going home yet. I h-have somewhere else I want to go first."

"Aha. Somewhere you'd rather not tell a teacher about, is that it?"

He nodded his head to the side a little. "Y-you could say that..."

"Alright," she said. "It's not my business. But stay out of trouble, Hector. You're a good kid."

He watched her go out into the parking lot and drive off in a white compact.

He pulled out the helm as he started walking and held it up to inspect. He hadn't been able to look at the finished product very closely before leaving the workroom. He turned it over in his hands.

'Wow, this looks like shit...'

Garovel laughed. 'Are you done?'

'Yeah... I mean, it's functional... but the face is all dented from the hammer. I could smooth it out with the grinder, but that'd weaken the metal...'

'Substance over style, Hector.'

'These corners on the jaw piece are going to dig into my neck if I don't shave them down...'

'You want to stay and keep working?'

'I can't. The clubroom is closed. I don't think there's anyone even left in the school...'

'Then you might as well get over here.' Garovel started giving directions.

'So, uh... what's Colt been doing?'

'Sleeping, mostly.'

'The whole day?'

'Yeah. But then, he is the most wanted man in Brighton right now. I can't imagine daylight being very friendly to him.'

'Oh yeah...'

'But he's awake now. Looks like he's preparing to leave.'

'Any idea where he's going?'

'No. But it must be something important if he's risking exposure. He's taking a gun with him.'

Hector started running. Soon, he reached Brighton's inner city and asked for more directions. Garovel gave them, but Colt was moving now, so following was made more difficult. Hector wasn't empowered with strength, either. His body still ached in protest every time his feet hit the pavement.

He finally stumbled to a stop when he saw Garovel.

'You don't look so good,' the reaper said, grasping his shoulder.

Relief washed through him. 'Where is he?'

Garovel pointed toward an alley behind a department store.

Hector slipped his head into the helm.

'It doesn't look so bad,' the reaper observed. 'The dents make it look a bit abnormal, but in a good way. An imposing way. How does it fit?'

He rubbed his neck. 'Could be worse, I suppose...' He made his way over to Colt.

When Colt spotted him approaching, the man's posture stiffened and his hand moved for his coat pocket. "Who the...? Wait. It's you, isn't it? I heard you were causing trouble. Looking to avenge your partner, are you?"

"No, I... I, um..."

Colt squinted at him.

'Calmly. Deliberately. At your own pace, Hector.'

"I... know about your children, Officer Colt."

"Do you, now?"

"I'll be brief," said Hector. "I'm going to rescue them, because... whatever I think about you... your children are innocent."

Colt seemed amused. "You're going to rescue them," he said. "And how, exactly, are you going to accomplish this feat? Do you know where they are?"

"I don't... have to tell you that..."

Colt revealed his gun, but kept it pointed low. "Hold on, kid. I'm not going to let you run in and put them in danger."

"They're already in danger..."

"The only thing keeping them safe is me," said Colt. "My actions. As long as I do what he wants, they're not in danger."

"What happens... when he wants you to do something... that you can't do?"

"I'll do anything. You understand that, kid? There are only two lives that matter to me, and mine ain't one of them."

Hector was quiet a moment. He took off his helm. "I've never had a partner," he said, holding it under his arm.

"You're lying," said Colt. "You're that kid's twin or something. It's the only explanation."

"Then shoot me," said Hector. He walked closer. "Shoot me right in the head... and then you'll see..."

"Stupid kid. Are you suicidal?"

'Don't answer that.'

"I thought you said you'd do anything," said Hector.

Colt glowered and holstered his weapon. "Alright," he said, "but I won't waste a bullet." He drew his knife, and Hector scarcely saw the blade coming before it drove through his eye socket.

Darkness. Hector reawoke on the pavement, Colt dragging him toward the trunk of his car. He called out to the man. "Hey..."

Colt dropped Hector's legs. "Impossible..." He backed up against the car as he watched Hector stand up again.

"Is this... proof enough?"

Colt just stared at him, face like stone.

"I want information," said Hector.

"You seem to have plenty of information already," said Colt. "What else do you need?"

"Uh..."

'The identities of other double agents. We don't need any more surprises.'

"Tell me who else... um... who else Rofal has on the police force... or anywhere else I should know about."

"The only other cops I know about are Toller, Robstoy, and Vance." He paused, furrowing his brow at Hector. "But I... I can look into finding more."

'Get him to ask Rofal about his plans. There seems to be a bigger play.'

"Also... if you can tell me about his plans... I'll have a better idea of what to do after your children are safe..."

"Fine. I'll find out what I can. If that's all, then I have an appointment to keep."

Hector stiffened. "Appointment? If you're going to kill someone..."

"I won't kill him if he cooperates," said Colt.

"Officer Colt..."

"Kid, it's not like I have a choice here."

"I know, but..."

'Tell him to kill you again,' said Garovel.

'Why?'

'We need to know where the children are, and the only way to do that is to have Colt give Rofal what he wants. And Rofal wants you dead.'

"Okay, Officer Colt. Here's what we'll do..."

#  ~Ch. 10~

# 'And ye shall know fear...'

Colt was glad the kid wasn't heavier. He lugged the body over his shoulder and approached the entrance to the Rofal mansion. He held the metal helmet in his free hand. The kid had been adamant about not leaving it behind.

The guards searched him. He had hoped that carrying a dead body would allow him to forgo such formalities, but they still made him stand there and wait while they confiscated his weapons. They even searched the kid's body.

Rofal chose to receive him in the atrium, and Colt dumped the body on the floor.

Swank backed away. "It's him! You brought him here?!"

"Him?" Rofal eyed the body.

"This kid was the thorn in your side," said Colt.

"Ah, is that so?"

Swank nodded. He did not venture out from behind the staircase. "You're sure he's dead, right?"

"Of course," said Colt. He turned the kid's head to the side, revealing a bloody gash below the base of the skull. "I would've stabbed him in the face, but I wanted to make sure you could recognize him. There is a reward for this, right? Oh, generous boss of mine?"

Rofal laughed. "Spectacular! Of course I'll reward you. Have a whole day--no, two days. Incredible work. How did you even find him?"

"He came to me," said Colt. "Said he wanted my help. Thought I'd betray you and feed him information."

Rofal's smile broadened. "Let me guess. You said you would, and then stuck him as soon as his back was turned."

"Pretty much."

"I love it," said Rofal. "That's what I admire about you, Colt. That ruthlessness."

Colt merely returned a smile of his own.

"How did you kill him?" Swank asked.

Colt furrowed his brow. "I stabbed him in the back of the head. Stupid question."

"Yeah, but..."

Colt looked to Rofal. "So how long are you going to make me wait?"

"I'll arrange for you to meet them tomorrow."

"Tonight," said Colt. "I want to see them tonight."

That gave Rofal pause. His smile lessened. "Impatient, aren't you?" He eyed Colt again, then the body. "Fine. I suppose you've earned it. I will have them brought here and give you the first three hours tonight."

Rofal had the body moved to the medical ward, accompanied with a handful of guards. Colt handed the weird helmet off to one of them, who seemed to find it amusing.

They made their way into Rofal's office. Rofal poured Colt a glass of whiskey. He did not offer one to Swank.

"There's something else I'd like to know," said Colt.

"Yes?" said Rofal.

"The money that the kid stole, what was it for?"

"Why? Did you recover it?"

"No." The kid did have a gripload of money in his bag, Colt had discovered, but Rofal didn't need to know that. The money was stuffed under the backseat of his car. "But you said something about it being for a seat at a table. What table?"

Rofal paused again. "Why do you want to know?"

"Let's say I've been considering my circumstances," said Colt. "And being more cooperative with you is starting to seem more advantageous."

"I see." Rofal leaned back in his chair. "Well, I would be lying if I said I did not want to tell you. However, if honesty is the game now, then I have to say, I am a bit taken aback by your sudden change of heart. And I have never been a very trusting man."

"I've noticed."

"I will tell you this," said Rofal. "That money was my means of acquiring an introduction with certain... like-minded individuals."

"I see," said Colt. "Is that all ruined now?"

"For the time being, yes. A frustrating set back. But I'm sure another opportunity will present itself in time."

Colt swilled his whiskey around the glass.

-+-+-+-+-

"Agh... where am I...?"

"Relax. I've got you."

"Ah... this again, huh?"

"I have to hold onto your soul while we wait for Colt's children to arrive."

"Okay... but, uh... this feels... a little different from the last time..."

"Well, without sounding too corny, our souls have had time to get acclimated to one another."

"What does that mean...?"

"We've bonded."

"Aww... come to think of it... this does kinda feel like a warm hug."

"Hmm, I suppose it does."

"It's really nice..."

"Uh. Okay."

"Hold me more tightly, Garovel."

"Getting a bit weird now."

"Haha. So, uh. What's going on with Colt? I can't see anything."

"He's speaking with Rofal now. He's not getting much information out of him."

"But Rofal doesn't suspect anything?"

"Not yet. It's been a bit boring, actually. They're just waiting for the kids to arrive. Colt's asking about his plans, but Rofal is being predictably cryptic."

"So... what do you think now? You said before that you needed more time to observe, but... do you, um... do you think I should kill Rofal?"

"No, I don't think you should."

"Really? Why?"

"Because we still don't know what will happen to Rofal's business in the event of his death. Contrary to popular belief, cutting the head off the snake doesn't always work. I don't think his enterprise will just dissolve."

"You're worried someone worse might take his place?"

"Until we know otherwise, yes."

"But you don't object to his death on moral grounds...?"

"Not particularly, no--hmm? Ah. Bohwanox just showed up. Hold on."

"Bohwanox? What's he doing here?"

"He's telling me."

"I can't hear him."

"Yeah, your soul isn't linked to him, so--agh, I can't carry two conversations at once like this. Just wait a minute."

"...A-alright... um..."

"There's something wrong."

"What is it?"

"Bohwanox says he followed someone here who had the aura of death. But it went away on its own, somehow. I'm not sure what he means. He says he's been investigating a series of missing persons reports, and he thinks this might be related."

"Ah, uh... w-what do we do?"

"...Bah. We need you awake. This person he followed is probably in serious danger."

"But it's too soon, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is."

"So, then...?"

"We make do. Get ready. Ah. Looks like they're dissecting your body."

"Wha--?"

-+-+-+-+-

Hector's eyes stuck open, and he saw a woman in blue scrubs standing over him. He looked down to see his chest cavity pried open with metal clamps, and a pair of burly thugs watching in the corner of the room. One of them was wearing his helm.

She noticed his eyes open and froze. "Uh, guys..."

Hector sat up. They all screamed.

'Keep them quiet!' Garovel yelled.

He bounded up and barreled into the man with his helm, punching him in the gut and yanking the helm free. The other guy slugged him in the face, flooring Hector. They jumped at the opportunity to kick the huge gash that was his chest.

Hector caught one of their legs and flung the man into his partner. They both bounced off the wall and toppled onto one another. He waited for them to get back up, but when he saw them reaching for their guns, he pulled their weapons straight out of their hands and pistol-whipped them both over the head. They stayed down.

Hector eyed the medic crouching in the corner and donned his helm once more. "Please remain quiet..."

The woman nodded furiously.

More guards filed into the room, however. Hector used the first thug who entered to push through the others and create a path for himself. He made sure that they all went down before they could start shooting or call for help. A couple of them ended up caught in the rafters. He initially thought that the corridor had a typically bare ceiling, so he was confused when the first guy he kicked up there didn't come back down.

'Well, this descended quickly,' said Garovel.

Hector ripped the clamps out of his chest, tearing flesh and bleeding all over the marble floor. Broken ribs stuck out at jagged angles, and he touched his own beatless heart. He tried not to think about how painful this would be later. 'So where do I go now?'

Bohwanox appeared through the wall. 'I apologize for my imposition,' he said.

'Uh, it-it's fine...'

'Bohwanox can't hear you,' Garovel said as he initiated the regeneration, causing Hector's bones to bend and snap back into place. 'He isn't linked to your brain like I am, so you have to talk aloud to him.'

"Oh. Uh... Garovel said that, um... you saw the aura of death go away on its own?"

'Yes,' said Bohwanox. 'It just vanished, with no apparent cause. Then the man it belonged to suddenly decided to come straight here, as if in a trance. I saw him go this way. Please follow me.'

Hector did so, smashing security cameras where he saw them. "I thought, um... I thought you didn't care about saving people," said Hector.

'I don't like to get involved, if that's what you mean,' said Bohwanox. 'But this is something different. You've sensed it too, haven't you, Garovel? The strange discomfort in this city?'

'Mm. I have. You believe this to be connected?'

'Not just connected. I believe it to be the root cause. I believe these missing people may be dying very... abnormally.'

"What do you mean?"

'I'm not wholly sure myself,' said Bohwanox. 'These people who have been going missing, they're all different ages, races, and genders. I couldn't find a common thread between them all, and their disappearances don't seem to have benefited anyone in particular. So I don't suspect that they're being held prisoner for sake of ransom or slavery. I believe they're being killed. But if that's the case, then why haven't I found any trapped or wandering souls? It's very strange.'

'And troubling,' added Garovel.

'Here,' said Bohwanox. 'I saw him go through that door.'

"You didn't check inside already?"

'No, I...' Bohwanox shied away from the door. 'I was... reluctant.'

Hector tilted his head. He looked at Garovel for an explanation, but the other reaper was also backing away. "A-are you guys okay...?"

'You feel that, Garovel?'

'I do. I'm wondering how I missed it before...'

'Because it's quiet,' said Bohwanox. 'It's like a shadow that doesn't belong. You don't realize it's there until the person casting it suddenly moves... and it lingers.'

The reapers both fell in behind. 'Please go first, Hector,' said Garovel. 'And be very careful.'

The door was locked, so he broke it down. It clapped to the floor so loudly that he was sure more guards would be coming soon, but the first things he saw in the room were two people--a young man in a dark suit staring back at him and an older, seated gentleman staring vacantly at a wall.

"Excuse me," said the younger man, "but what the hell do you think... you are... Hmm." He squinted at Hector. "What do we have here?"

-+-+-+-+-

"Fine," said Colt. "Then maybe you can tell me more about your family. I've only ever met you and Geoffrey."

"Ah." Rofal took a swig of his alcohol. "My father and mother retired successfully some ten years ago now. Great man, my father. These days, some people question his lucidity--namely, my mother--but sometimes, I can still see that brilliance of his. That ambition. One moment, he'll be talking about his great grandfather or his dead sister like they're in the room; and then the next, he'll be whispering to me about some secret store room he had built thirty years ago."

"I met him once," said Swank. "He offered to cut my hair for me. And replace it with possum fur. I'm still not sure if he was joking."

Rofal laughed. "Apart from that, I have a few siblings. I inherited the business because my older sister, bless her, hates everything about it."

Colt snorted. "One of you isn't a criminal?"

"Oh, she has the mind for it. We all know she does. But she fell in love with an electrician and decided to become a housewife, if you can believe that. Still not sure I do."

"What about your other siblings?" Colt asked.

"You are very curious today," said Rofal, laughing lowly. "If this is part of some ploy to take my family members hostage in exchange for your own, then for your own sake, allow me to dispel that plan in its infancy. You can take whomever you want. Or try to. My family members certainly do not need me to protect them from the likes of you. They would be upset if I did."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Ha."

"What about Geoffrey's parents? Are they dead?"

"No, they are alive. But they entrusted him to me. They struggled with him as a child."

"I can imagine."

"I do not think you can," said Rofal.

Colt raised an eyebrow.

Rofal downed the rest of his whiskey and rested the glass in front of him. "There are very few people in this world who frighten me," he said. "I am all too glad to have that monster's favor."

-+-+-+-+-

'What the hell is that thing?' said Bohwanox.

'I don't know,' said Garovel.

Hector didn't have time to ask for an explanation. A group of five more guards appeared in the doorway and laid hands on him. He soon dispatched them, rendering three unconscious and two groaning in pain on the floor.

"Oh, wow! What a pleasure to meet you! My name is Geoffrey. What is yours?" When Hector did not reply, Geoffrey's face scrunched up. "Why are the interesting people always so rude to me?"

Upon a second look, Hector noticed an unusual décor in this room. Not more than a meter to Geoffrey's left lay a row of objects encased in glass. A foot, a hand, a nose, a little finger, a pair of eyes, a hairy scalp, a shriveled heart, a blackened brain. Various sizes and skin colors. All bloody.

Hector's expression darkened beneath his helm. He eyed the vacant-eyed man in the chair. "Who is that person?" he said.

"Oh, him?" said Geoffrey. "He is my new fetcher. My old one was starting to smell."

"...Fetcher?"

"Yeah. I use him to bring me stuff. From the outside. My uncle does not want me to leave, and I want him to be happy, so I use fetchers."

'That man is dead,' said Garovel. 'The body is alive, but there is no soul.'

"Hmm." Geoffrey's eyes moved, and Hector wasn't sure where the young man was looking. "If you will not tell me your name, then what about these two here?"

Hector blinked. "What?"

'He can see us!' said Bohwanox.

"Why, yes, I can." Geoffrey grinned. "Am I not supposed to?"

The reapers backed away even further.

"You asked what 'that thing' is," said Geoffrey. "You were referring to me?"

'Yes,' said Garovel. 'What are you?'

"I am not sure what you mean."

'You are NOT human,' said Bohwanox. 'So why do you look like one?'

"Hmm. You know, I have always had a feeling I was not human. Everyone treats me like one, so I did not think much more about it, but you seem to know what you are saying. What are you, anyhow? Phantoms?" Geoffrey stepped closer and reached out to touch Bohwanox.

Hector placed himself in the way. "Did you... kill that man there?"

Geoffrey eyed Hector again. "You have not answered any of my questions, yet you continue to ask more of your own. You are trying my patience."

"Too bad," said Hector. "Did you kill him?"

"I suppose I did," said Geoffrey. "The soul, as your friend called it, is always destroyed when I take them for my own. Now out of my way. I wish to inspect your phantom." He tried to push past, but Hector held him back.

"I don't think so."

"Hmm. Interesting."

In an instant, something red flashed across Hector's vision, and suddenly, his forearm was gone, flesh and bone cut so cleanly off that it took a moment to start bleeding. Geoffrey held the severed limb by the wrist.

Hector remained unfazed.

Geoffrey tossed the meat over his shoulder and stared. "Did that not hurt?" he asked.

Hector clocked him in the mouth, and Geoffrey flew back, toppling over the sofa. "Did that?"

Geoffrey stood up immediately, shaking his head. "That was surprising," he said. And when he looked up, a crimson shade was covering his mouth.

Hand growing back, Hector's eyes narrowed. "What is that?"

"I see no reason to tell you." Geoffrey bounded forward and swung, but Hector just took the hit and punched him in the gut, launching him even farther back than before. When Geoffrey stood, this time the red shadow covered his stomach. He began to laugh. "Interesting! You certainly hit hard!"

Hector waited as the young man approached. The reapers fell back into the corridor, observing from beyond the doorway. "What the hell are you?"

"A good question," said Geoffrey. "I would like to know as well. But right now, I am more interested in what they are. You are not going to let me touch them, are you?"

Hector made no response.

"Fine." Geoffrey waved his hand, and the man in the chair sprung up and leapt on Hector, thrashing and biting.

Hector flung him off, but not before Geoffrey ran past. There was nothing between him and the reapers. They split up, and Geoffrey went after Bohwanox. Hector pursued, but they were too far ahead. Geoffrey reached out, and it seemed like Bohwanox was still far enough away, but from Geoffrey's hand, the same red shadow flew forth, jagged and fast, and it slashed the reaper's backside.

'Agh!'

"I just want to touch you!" Geoffrey laughed.

Hector was there. He grabbed Geoffrey by the collar and threw him against the wall, keeping him pinned there. He glanced at Bohwanox, who was turning over in the air. "Are you alright?!"

Ghostly black-and-white smoke rose from the wound. 'I-I'm not sure,' he said, grimacing.

'You'll recover,' said Garovel. 'But you need to leave now. You've done all you can here.'

'Y-yes, very well.' Bohwanox disappeared through the wall.

"Hey, where did he go?!" said Geoffrey. "Come back! I was not done!"

Hector made a fist and punched him in the face with all his strength. The wall cracked behind Geoffrey's head.

But the red shade was there again, and when it vanished, Geoffrey's face remained untarnished. "Your attacks hurt," said Geoffrey, "but they do not wound. Not like this." He speared Hector through the chest with a red-coated hand. Blood flew everywhere. Geoffrey's hand stuck out of Hector's back, clutching an extracted heart.

Bleeding from the mouth, Hector did not move. "...You were saying?" He headbutted him, reared back, and kicked Geoffrey through the wall.

Geoffrey flew into the billiards room. Wood and plaster rained down on the pool table he'd landed on. He sat up and eyed the bloody heart in his hands. "How the hell...?" His gaze locked on Garovel. "This is their doing, isn't it?" He climbed to his feet.

'Behind you!' Garovel shouted.

Hector at once knew what he meant. Geoffrey's puppet man was running at him. Hector stepped to the right, caught the man, and swung him straight into Geoffrey. The pair crashed into a ceiling fan and hit the ground in a heap of shattered glass and splintered wood.

Once again, Geoffrey stood. The red shadow covered his entire body before disappearing again. "You are beginning to annoy me."

"I've never been very good at making friends..." Hector's chest began to reform for the second time that night.

Geoffrey waved his hand. When his puppet man did not immediately leap forth, he turned to see why.

Small cuts riddled the man's face, and his leg was bent the wrong way. He struggled even to stand, collapsing after a moment.

Geoffrey frowned. "Broken already? I just made this one." He sighed. "Oh well." A red flash cleaved the man in two. Blood didn't start spraying until his body hit the ground.

Hector scowled. "Fucker...!"

"It appears I need a new fetcher," said Geoffrey, starting closer. "Perhaps I should make things simple and just take you." The red shadow swirled free of Geoffrey's body, amassing in hulking form.

Hector dove back into the hallway, but the shadow still enveloped him. He thrashed within its grasp, expecting some kind of horrific pain or black out, but there was none. He turned to Garovel, who looked entirely unconcerned--even strangely amused.

The streak of crimson bounded back to Geoffrey, and the young man stared at Hector in disbelief. "Why?! You should be mine, now!"

'Fool,' said Garovel. 'You can't have him. He already belongs to me.'

Geoffrey lashed out with a red whip.

Hector and Garovel split out of the way. Geoffrey tore after the reaper. Garovel slipped through a wall, and when Geoffrey turned, that metal helm was right in his face. Hector launched him the full length of the corridor to leave an impressive crack in the far wall. He could already see Geoffrey getting up as Garovel's skull poked out of the wall.

'Hector,' said the reaper. 'This is a losing battle.'

'What do you mean? I'm doing fine, aren't I?'

'For the moment. But we aren't prepared for this fight. There's no time to explain. You need to remember what we came here for.'

Hector's expression soured. 'The children...'

'Colt will probably be needing your help about now.'

He saw Geoffrey charging him.

-+-+-+-+-

The conversation ended abruptly when a pounding thud shook the room. The three men all eyed each other a moment.

"What the fuck was that?" said Swank.

Rofal picked up the phone on his desk.

Colt's gaze hardened. "Who are you calling?"

Rofal looked at him but did not respond. "Report," he said into the receiver. A brief interval passed as he listened. "I see."

Colt shifted in his seat. He did not like the look on the other man's face.

Rofal hung up and started dialing again.

He could wait no longer. Colt bolted up and ripped the phone from Rofal's grasp.

"So this was your game." Rofal was far too calm. "I am disappointed, Colt."

Colt smashed the phone on the ground.

Rofal stood as men entered from the far door. "Congratulations," he said. "You correctly guessed the next call I was going to make. Your children are still on their way here."

He assessed the numbers. Seven against one. All armed, save himself.

"I suppose I could find another phone, but they should be here any minute, so why bother? Your resolve is clear to me now at least." Rofal walked around the desk. "But you know, I am nothing if not determined. I will give you one more chance."

"Is that so?" said Colt.

"When they arrive, I will allow you to choose which of the two you wish to keep."

"Like fuck you will."

"Refuse, and I will take both. And I will not kill them, Colt. They will become my children. I have none of my own, you see. I will raise them. They will come to love me. They will come to hate you. And when they are old enough, I will send them to kill you in my name."

Colt's expression alone seemed enough to slaughter everyone in the room.

"Agree to my terms, and you will be allowed to keep one child for yourself. Our amiable relationship may continue, and perhaps in time, you will be able to earn back your second child."

He clenched his teeth. "I'm going to kill you."

"You seem so determined not to leave this building alive. Perhaps you would prefer to watch as I kill them in front of you before you die as well? That would certainly save me considerable time and effort."

Another pounding thud shook the room even more violently than before. Everyone looked around nervously.

"I'm not the one you should be worried about right now," said Colt.

"Who--?"

The double doors flung open, and the kid ran into the room, metal helm looking between everyone. A red streak followed him in and struck at him. He dodged the first couple strikes before it pierced his leg, dropping him to his knee. Red coiled around the kid like rope, swung him up, then smashed him into the floor. The kid struggled in his bindings as Geoffrey entered the room, the red source.

"Pardon us, Uncle."

"Who the hell is this?" Rofal asked.

"He refuses to tell me," said Geoffrey. "You should stand back, Uncle. He is rather dangerous. And very protective of--" Geoffrey choked the word back as the kid started pulling on the red streak, dragging Geoffrey towards him.

A jagged red blade grew from Geoffrey's other hand, and he slashed the kid. It cut into the helm and got stuck there. The kid pulled him in the rest of the way and smacked him in the jaw, freeing himself. He launched Geoffrey across the room, collapsing a table as he landed.

The kid looked to Colt. "Are they here?!" he said.

Still a bit in shock, Colt struggled to answer. "Soon!"

Back on his feet, Geoffrey's wild eyes searched frantically. He pointed to a few of Rofal's lackeys. "You three!" A surge of crimson shot forth and enveloped them. They quickly panicked, began screaming like they'd been set on fire, then all too suddenly, fell deathly silent. "Kill him!" They all bounded toward the kid, splitting up to attack from different sides.

Regaining himself, Colt took advantage of the chaos. While the other mooks were distracted, he ran up behind one of them. He kicked him in the back of the knee, took the man into a chokehold with one arm, and stole the gun from its holster with the other. He immediately switched off the safety and opened fire. Two shots, two dead lackeys.

The kid was tossing his three around like they were lawn chairs. For some reason, Geoffrey seemed intent on getting around the kid rather than fighting him directly, and the kid seemed equally intent on holding his ground.

Rofal scrambled through his desk, no doubt for a weapon, but when he saw that Colt already had the gun on him, he stopped and backed away. For the first time that Colt had seen, the man looked genuinely fearful. "Be reasonable, Colt... If you kill me--"

Colt shot him in the chest.

Rofal dropped, hands vainly touching the wound as he watched Colt walking closer. "No...!"

"Yes." The bullet splattered Rofal's brain all over the floor.

He didn't have long to feel satisfied, however.

"What have you done?!" someone yelled. It was Geoffrey. The red shadow boiled around him. "What have you DONE?!"

Colt opened fire. The shadow deflected each bullet, causing Geoffrey scarcely more than a momentary grimace. The magazine soon ran out.

The kid ran up and grabbed Geoffrey by the arm, then flung him back into the hall. One of Geoffrey's minions was back up, and Colt bashed his skull in with the butt of his gun.

"What the fuck is that red shit?!"

"No time," the kid said. "Where will your children arrive?"

"I don't know!"

"Think!"

"Ah--maybe the elevator in Rofal's bedroom. But it could just be the main entrance. I can't know for--"

The red flew around the door and straight for Colt. The kid jumped in front of him and took it through the chest, losing a mass of blood. The jagged shade stopped just short of Colt's stomach.

"Go!" the kid yelled. "I'll check the entrance!"

Colt didn't need to be told twice. He stopped only to rip a gun off of one of the dead bodies. The other two minions were up and barreling at him. He didn't hesitate to shoot them both in the head.

He kicked the door to Rofal's bedroom open. The elevator sat on the far left side, adjacent the bathroom. The numbers above the elevator door were already lighting up in descending order.

Colt ducked into the bathroom and waited.

#  ~Ch. 11~

# 'A true flesh wound...'

Hector's feet dangled above the floor as he hung from the red blade through his chest. He grasped the blade with both hands, trying to pull it free, but he couldn't grip it with his blood all over it.

"This little helmet of yours is curious. And annoying. Is your head your weak point, by chance?" Geoffrey's red shade coiled around the helm's jaw, tugging on it.

Hector felt himself panicking. He didn't know what else to do. The only thing he had left in mind was his iron, but that was useless. He tried it anyway. He put a hand forth, and from it came a light shower of gray particles, about as dangerous as a handful of confetti.

Geoffrey laughed. "What the hell is this?" He gently blew the powder away and laughed even more. "Are you a party clown in your spare time? Do that again! Go on!"

Hector had a better idea. He coated his hands in iron dust and gripped the blade again. There it was. The friction he needed. He yanked the blade out and hit the ground rolling. He could hear Geoffrey's elongated blades digging into the floor behind.

'The main entrance is straight ahead of you,' said Garovel.

He ran but felt something slowing him down. A bit of the red shadow was still wrapped around his helm, he realized. He pulled on it, but it stretched like taffy.

Geoffrey soon caught up. "Keep struggling," he said, smiling. "Perhaps you'll break it eventually." When he saw Hector turn and walk towards him, his smile disappeared, however. He slashed Hector's helm, but the sharp edge didn't hit cleanly and just ricocheted off. Hector's punch sent him bouncing from wall to ceiling to floor and out of sight around a corner.

He started for the entrance again, but Garovel stopped him.

'Wait! You have to make sure Geoffrey stays on you! He has every reason to go after Colt, right now!'

"Shit." He turned and ran back but didn't have far to go. A red streak came soaring after him, and he rolled to the side. Seeing Geoffrey again was confirmation enough, so Hector bolted for the entrance.

Past the broad welcoming chamber and outside the house at last, he found no one but Garovel. Still underground and surrounded by dark rock formations, it would have been pitch black if not for the pathway lamps showing the way to a slew of elevators some dozen meters away.

Glancing back, he saw twin red lashes gunning for him. He avoided the first but caught the second through the gut, and a moment later, the first returned to hack his leg off.

Hector dropped to the ground, blood spurting out of his severed limb as he wrestled the thrashing red python. 'Get back!' he told Garovel.

The reaper listened, but too late. Geoffrey had reached the doorway, and one of the streaks was already snaking toward Garovel. It wrapped around the reaper and pulled him closer to Geoffrey.

"Found you!"

'Garovel!' Iron powder gave Hector the traction he needed to rip the streak out, but he couldn't stand yet. His leg had scarcely regrown at all. "Don't you hurt him!"

"Tell me what he is, and I won't," said Geoffrey.

The reaper struggled to break free of his red bonds but to no avail.

"Fine!" said Hector. He could feel his leg slowly returning. "Okay! I'll tell you...!" He made Geoffrey wait a moment longer. "He's... a reaper. You know. A reaper of death."

Geoffrey raised an eyebrow, turning Garovel around in the air. "Ah... I see. Interesting. I still want to dissect him, though." He stuck Garovel through the chest.

'Ugh!'

"No!" It didn't matter that his leg hadn't fully returned. Hector stomped toward him with one gory stump. He clenched his fist so hard that he thought it might break, and he felt iron gathering around his knuckles almost involuntarily.

He slugged Geoffrey square in the face with every ounce of strength in his body.

Geoffrey smashed through the front of the house, and from the sound of it, several more walls within the building.

Hector looked at his hand. A thin metal veil covered the back of his palm and fingers. It wasn't stable. Even as he stared at it, he saw it cracking and crumbling into dust, but it was still much more than he had expected to see.

'Agh... Hector...'

"Garovel!"

The reaper just hovered there, the gash clear as day and smoldering.

"We're leaving." He vainly tried to take the reaper's arm, phasing through it like smoke. "Dammit, we have to...! You have to follow me, Garovel!"

'The children...'

"They aren't here," he said. "They must be with Colt. We have to get out of here."

'Alright, just... listen.'

"I swear to goddess, if you tell me to leave without you...!"

'No... but I can't move. I need you to... carry me.'

"Fine, fine. How?"

'I have to attach myself to your soul... Come closer.'

"Okay. Do it."

Immediately, Hector's body felt stranger. Everything had a dull ache to it, and his strength diminished. He could feel the reaper's presence, he realized, like a cloud hanging over his shoulders, dark and familiar... and weak.

'Go quickly...'

He ran. He chose the closest elevator, but when the door didn't open as soon as he hit the button, he moved to the next. The fifth attempt yielded immediate results, and he rode the small lift up in silence, listening intently for sounds of pursuit.

The door opened again, and he found himself in a closet, which led into the back of a drugstore. No one was around, as it was still the middle of the night. He slid over the counter and made his way outside. With no key to lock the door again behind him, he felt a bit bad about it but had to leave and hope no one took the opportunity to rob the place. Then again, the store was involved with Rofal, so maybe it deserved it.

Running with only one shoe soon grew awkward, so he pulled it off and threw it in a dumpster. One pant leg was also missing below the knee, but running around without pants on seemed less reasonable.

None of the buildings looked familiar. He slowed to a walk. 'Where do I go, Garovel?'

The reaper did not answer.

'Garovel?!'

'Mm... what?'

He took a breath. 'You scared me...'

'Sorry... I'm... very tired... I need to rest...'

'I need you to tell me where to go first. I don't know where we are.'

'Ah... uh... sorry, I... I'm...'

'Garovel?' He waited for answer but received none. He stopped walking.

Everything had happened so quickly. He hadn't had much chance to take it all in. And standing in the open street, he still wasn't ready to. Part of him was afraid Geoffrey would find them if he stopped moving for too long. So he kept walking, aimless and barefoot over cool, damp concrete.

'Hector!'

At first, he thought it was Garovel, but then he realized. "Bohwanox?"

The reaper descended from the sky, the wound on his back still smoking, though less than before. 'What happened?'

"Garovel was hurt... pretty badly... he's, um... resting now."

'Ah... I see.'

"Are you alright?"

'I think so, yes. I've never been wounded like this before, but I only feel mildly weakened.'

"That's good... How'd you, um... h-how'd you find me?"

'Searching, is how. From up high. I was worried you two didn't make it. I saw that other man leaving earlier.'

"What other man?"

'The one you were working with. He was talking to Rofal when I found you both tonight.'

"Ah! You saw Colt?!"

'Was that his name?'

"Did he have two babies with him?"

'He did have both arms full.'

"Can you take me to him?"

'I believe so. Follow me.'

He had trouble keeping pace. His limbs were beginning to feel like lead. Bohwanox slowed down for him.

'I should thank you, Hector.'

"What for?"

'You saved my life.'

"Oh... well... I mean, I couldn't just let you die..."

'Yes, you could have.'

Hector's brow lowered within his helm. "I wouldn't have, then."

Bohwanox eyed him quietly, his bony expression made thoughtful, and a silent intermission passed. 'Are you sure Garovel is alright?'

Hector hesitated. "N-no... but then... if he dies, then..."

'So do you.'

"Yeah..."

'Do you feel like you're dying?'

"Not exactly... This isn't what it felt like before, anyway..."

'Hmm. What happened to Geoffrey?'

"Still alive, I'm pretty sure... What is he? Do you have any idea?"

'No, I don't. Perhaps Garovel does. I get the impression he's much older and more experienced than I am.'

"Really? Uh... h-how old are you?"

'As a reaper, I'm only about seventy years old.'

"What do you mean, 'as a reaper'...?"

'If you count my human life, then I'm about a hundred or so, I suppose.'

Hector blinked. "You... you were human?"

Bohwanox's skeletal brow rose. 'Of course. All reapers were humans before they died. Garovel didn't tell you?'

"Ah... well... we had a lot of other things to talk about. But, um... he did say that he was thousands of years old..."

'It's as I thought, then.' Bohwanox circled around Hector to look at Garovel resting there.

"I just, um... I just thought all reapers were that old..."

'Most are. I'm the rare one here.'

"Oh..."

'We don't choose to be reapers. It's inherited, a recessive trait that barely manages to live on into modern times. The vast majority of reapers once lived among various ancient civilizations as humans.'

"Huh... why does it barely survive? Er, I mean... why isn't it more, um... prevalent?"

'I believe it's a genetic reason, but honestly, that's about all I know. I'm sure Garovel is more informed. I generally avoid involving myself with other reapers. I've seen many who are... well, violently insane would be an understatement.'

"Eesh... Garovel said something like that, too..."

'Deluded zealotry, believing in absolute madness. And the ones who fight them aren't much better.' Bohwanox shook his head at the ground. 'I can partly understand why. This existence after death... seeing but not being seen, hearing but not being heard... it's not difficult to imagine it having ill effects on someone. Especially if that someone believed fiercely in the religions of their time.'

"Religion? What does that matter?"

'The ancient religions of the world weren't exactly renowned for their mercy and kindness.'

"Ah, right..."

'Modern religions aren't paragons of that, either, but at least society has abolished things like ritual sacrifice and slavery... well. Most societies, anyway. Horsht and Dozer are still full of stupid fucks who believe that garbage.'

"Y'know, for a spirit... you don't seem very... spiritual..."

'I will take that as a compliment,' said Bohwanox, and he stopped. 'Ah. Hold up. I saw Colt around here. Let me see if I can find him again.' The reaper flew off.

Hector had the street to himself. Only the occasional vehicle or illuminated window spoke of any other life in the neighborhood. Not that he minded. The peace was much welcomed--especially as he eyed his shredded, blood-soaked garments.

"Gah... I'm burning through clothes like toilet paper..." Hector felt something in his head shift, and then realized it was just Garovel's presence.

'Did I hear... you found Colt...?'

'Yeah. Bohwanox thinks he's here. How are you feeling?'

'Vaguely conscious...'

'Y-you will recover, right?'

'Yeah... don't worry... But what will you do about... um... ugh...'

'Garovel?'

'Wha?'

'You were saying something.'

'Oh. Are you going to just let Colt go? He's still a... uh... a murder...'

'I know... And I'd like to put him in prison, but... that'd be a death sentence. Even assuming the other inmates wouldn't kill him just for being a cop... Geoffrey's gunning for him now.'

'Ah... good thinking...'

'I also don't know what would become of his kids. I mean... would they actually be safe in foster care? Or with their mother? Who is she, even? Or is there someone else who--?'

'Okay, shut up. I stopped listening... Handle it on your own...'

He exhaled a curt laugh. 'Rest up, jackass.'

Soon, Bohwanox returned. 'Found him. He's parked around back.'

Hector followed the reaper through an abandoned terrace, paint peeling off the walls in large, leafing flakes. The ones on the floor stuck to his feet as he passed from dark room to dark room and finally out into a musty alley.

Colt spotted him immediately and took a moment to lower his gun. "Holy fuck, kid. I thought I looked like shit. What happened to you? Did you bathe in Geoffrey's fuckin' blood?"

"No... this is all mine..."

"Wait. You didn't kill Geoffrey? Don't tell me you let him live 'cuz of some bleeding heart bullshit. I swear, that fucking kid deserved--"

"It's not that I didn't," he said. "It's that I couldn't... He's too strong. Or I'm too weak. All I know is... I couldn't even hurt him..."

"Well, fuck."

"Did you... did you get your kids?"

And Colt actually smiled--not with sarcasm, but with relief. "Yes, I did," he said. He motioned over to the car, and there they were in the backseat, both wrapped in blankets. "They were screaming their heads off the whole way here. I don't know how they're sleeping now."

"What about you?" Hector asked. "Are you injured?"

Colt revealed a gash under his left sleeve briefly. "There were three guys in the elevator."

"You... killed them?"

"I did. That a problem for you?"

Hector sighed. "I guess not... You don't have my advantages, so... I understand, but still..."

Colt tossed him something. "Here." It was a burner phone.

Hector just waited for him to elaborate.

"I thought you might find me again. How the hell do you keep doing that, anyway?"

"It's... too difficult to explain..."

"Whatever. My number's in that phone."

"Thank you...?"

"Thank yourself. I used your money."

Hector tilted his head. "Cellphone stores aren't open at this hour..."

Colt shrugged. "I may have broken a window to make my purchase."

"You're supposed to be a cop..."

"It's fine. I left plenty of money on the counter."

Hector pocketed the phone. It fell through his pants and hit the ground. He decided to just carry it. "You'll call me if you need my help, I take it?"

"Well, since you're offering, sure." Colt moved for the driver's door. "By the way, you need a ride?"

He thought a moment. "No..."

"Bah. Don't want to show me where you live, huh?"

"There's that... but mainly... I'd rather not be seen with the most wanted man in the country, right now."

Colt gave an admissive nod.

"Where will you go?" Hector asked.

"Gotta get out of the city at least. Hopefully out of the country as well, but that'll be difficult." He reached into the backseat and pulled out Hector's bag. He tossed it to him. "Thanks for all your help, Hector Goffe."

Hector eyed the bag. His algebra book lay atop the mass of cash. He hadn't expected Colt to rifle through his things, but he supposed he should have. "If you're really thankful... then don't make me regret letting you go... don't ever hurt those children."

"Of course I won't."

"So you say..."

Colt's expression hardened. "What was that?"

"You're a murderer... a violent man with violent tendencies... How do I know you won't just... get tired of their crying one day and snap? Or lose your patience when they're older and beat them?"

Colt glared. "I'd never hurt them. I swear on my life. You already know I'd die for them."

They merely exchanged stares for a long moment.

"I'll be keeping an eye on you--" He glanced at Bohwanox, who nodded. "--so I'll know if you break that promise."

"I won't."

"Good... because I will hunt you down, if you do..."

Colt looked at him heavily, and then let out a brief laugh, which turned into a sigh. "You show up out of nowhere. You know all these things that no one else should. And you turn everything upside down... Just what the hell are you, kid?"

"...I haven't figured that out yet, either."

#  ~Ch. 12~

# 'O, vigilant heart, take heed...'

Hector had been relieved to have Bohwanox help him find his way home again. The reaper knew exactly where Cedar Street was and had no trouble guiding him toward more familiar surroundings before flying off. He'd worried that Bohwanox would have trouble finding Colt again, but the reaper did not seem to share his concern.

Lying in bed, Hector awoke to Garovel floating over him.

'Best wake now,' the reaper said. 'People will start to wonder where you are if you miss more school again.'

He rolled over. His body felt like a sack of bricks. "It's the weekend..."

'Not anymore. You've been sleeping for four days.'

"Ugh... of course I have..."

'I only slept for two. You're a wuss.'

He eyed the reaper incredulously and shook his head. "So you're all recovered, I take it?"

'For the most part. C'mon, get up.'

He groaned and sat over the side of his bed. "I feel fucking terrible..." As usual, everything hurt, his chest most of all. It had a kind of burning ache to it that made him regret each breath he took. "Agh, Garovel... why...?" He gave a laughing whimper. "This sucks so bad..."

'I know. I managed to mitigate some of it while you slept, but the next few days'll be pretty rough.'

"I regret everything..."

'No one likes a whiner.'

"I especially regret saving you..."

'Right back at you, Hector. Right back at you.'

His laugh broke off into a grimacing smile. "Please...! Don't make me laugh...!"

'Sorry.'

He slowly dressed himself and half-stepped his way down stairs with wooden legs. He found his father in the dining room, overseeing a coffee and newspaper.

By appearance alone, Samuel Goffe was certainly Hector's father. They shared their slender builds, their thin noses, their prominent brows, and their slightly darker skin tones. About the only things Hector took from his mother were her eyes and hair, but as he kept his head shaved, that left only the prior.

"Morning, son."

"Morning..."

Hector made himself a bowl of cereal. And a bowl of oatmeal. He grabbed a chocolate muffin as well. Then a banana. A glass of milk, too. Some strawberry yogurt. Peanut butter on toast. And a couple waffles for good measure. He sat down across from his father.

As he ate, he kept expecting his father to bring up the subject of his school attendance, but the man seemed content for them to sit in silence. Hector could see the coffee mug shaking as his father sipped from it.

Garovel floated around the table. 'Maybe you should ask him something.'

'Like what?'

'I don't know. How his day is going? Say anything.'

'No...'

'Why not?'

'Just... no...'

The reaper made a face but didn't press further.

His father finished his coffee and moved to the living room to watch the morning news. Hector devoured the rest of his breakfast, climbed back upstairs, brushed his teeth, grabbed his bag, and shambled off to the bus stop.

Garovel was not prepared to let the topic of Hector's father go, however. 'I know you don't have the warmest relationship with your parents, but even still. You could have at least attempted a conversation with him.'

'There was no point,' he said. 'Dad's having a bad day...'

The skeleton raised an eyebrow. 'What do you mean?'

'My dad takes medication,' said Hector. 'Sometimes, he has... bad days... and... I mean, even normally, he's not very... um... talkative. But... he likes to be alone on his bad days...'

'Hmm. What kind of medication?'

'Eh... honestly, I'm not sure...'

'What?'

'My parents have always kinda... hid it from me... I think Dad's embarrassed by it. And Mom just... I don't know...'

'How could you tell he was having a bad day, then?'

'He was home when he should have been at work, for one thing. And... I could see the tremors... in his hands. They were weak, but...'

'Ah.' Garovel paused. 'Y'know, I could follow him around and probably figure it out, if you want.'

Hector's eyes widened, and he shook his head. 'N-no, that's... please don't do that...'

'Why not? You'd rather not know?'

'I just... That's, um... My parents are very private people. My dad even more so than my mom. I don't... wanna... do that to him... I mean, he doesn't want me to know, so...'

The reaper shrugged. 'If you say so. Personally, I think it'd be better to know, but it's your family.'

On the bus, Hector took the seat behind the driver and stared out the window. Garovel floated right outside.

'So do you, um... do you really not know what Geoffrey is? Bohwanox thought you might have some idea.'

'I wish I did,' he said. 'But that creature... I've never seen anything like it. It was just so...'

'So, what?'

'Wrong.'

'How do you mean...? Like, his aura was really fucked up or something?'

'Essentially, yeah. But it didn't seem like a human soul that had become corrupted somehow. It seemed completely inhuman to begin with.'

'Hmm...'

'Pure evil doesn't exist,' said Garovel. 'People can only be evil insofar as making evil decisions--possessing an intent to harm or cause suffering. Evil actions. Even people who do evil things purely for the sake of amusement are still human. They're twisted, sure. They have evil tendencies, but they still aren't MADE of evil. But... Geoffrey's aura... I can't think of any other way to describe it. It was like an evil consciousness.'

Hector raised an eyebrow. 'So... you're saying Geoffrey is pure evil?'

'No! I'm saying he's NOT! Because there's no such thing!'

'So why'd you bring it up then?! You're making it confusing!'

'Because it IS confusing! I don't know what he is yet! And seeing the way he acted, it's easy to feel like he's evil incarnate or some shit!'

Hector sighed. 'Whatever... You're not making any sense...'

'Tch. I need to find out more.'

Hector looked at the reaper heavily. 'You're not going anywhere without me. It's way too dangerous with him out there.'

'Oh, please. The odds of me randomly encountering Geoffrey are ridiculously low. And even if I did, I'd just outrun him.'

'You don't know that,' said Hector. 'If you don't even know what Geoffrey is, then you definitely don't know what he's capable of... I mean, he could still have abilities we didn't see before...'

'Hector, I've been doing this a long time. I can handle myself.'

'You're not going anywhere without me,' he repeated.

Garovel lowered his brow. 'You're being very unreasonable today.'

'I don't care... You're not gonna go out and get killed while I'm sitting through a fucking biology lesson...'

'You do realize that you are the servant in this relationship, right? I don't have to listen to you. I could put you to sleep and fly to the other side of the planet, if I wanted.'

Hector just glared at him.

'Ugh. Fine. I won't wander off, for the time being. But I will need to venture out on my own again sooner or later. You're going to have to trust that I know what I'm doing, eventually.'

The bus squealed to a stop in front of the school, and Hector exited.

'Tell me how to kill Geoffrey,' he said as he walked. 'You said we weren't prepared for that fight before. So... prepare me.'

The reaper floated ahead of him. 'You're already resolved to kill him?'

'It's him or you, isn't it? That's not a hard choice. I... I would've done it before, if I could've...'

'Him or US, Hector.'

'R-right...'

'Well. In order to hurt Geoffrey, you have to be able to break the red shadow that protects him.'

'Okay...'

'The reason it seemed like an impervious shield was because your attacks were only physical, whereas the shadow was both physical and mental. That shadow is something real and imaginary at the same time, which is why it seemed to constantly disappear and reappear.'

'Imaginary? But if it's imaginary... then...'

'How can it exist? Because reality is relative. Take me, for instance. I'm imaginary. All reapers are. Relative to our servants, and apparently Geoffrey, we exist. But relative to the rest of the world, we don't.'

'But... the powers you grant me are definitely real...'

'Those powers are the result of a marriage between something real and something imaginary. It's the same for Geoffrey's shield.'

'I think I get it... maybe...'

'So, in order to fight it, you have to add a mental--or imaginary--side to your attacks.'

'And how do I do that?'

'Oh, it's not that difficult. Because your body has already had its soul "hollowed" out, so to speak, you'll be able to gain a stronger sense of your own presence and even begin to manipulate your soul in different ways. You'll be able to get the basics down fairly quickly. It's only when you want to become genuinely proficient that things go less smoothly, but we wont be worrying about that too much yet. For now, we'll mainly focus on trying to grow your materialization ability. I expect that'll be more immediately useful.'

'Hmm.'

'By the way, in the interest of full disclosure, there are actually two ways that your metal power can grow.'

'Oh?'

'The first is meditative training, just like you've already been doing. It takes a while, but it's the more reliable of the two.'

'The other way is faster?'

'Very much so, yeah. The second method is to throw yourself into an incredibly dangerous situation, almost get us both killed, and hope that the desperation and rush of adrenaline are enough to force a breakthrough.'

'What the fuck? That sounds...'

'Reckless and stupid? Yeah. We won't be attempting that one. The almost-getting-killed part is a dealbreaker for me.'

'Huh. Okay... But, um... about this soul power or whatever. When should I, uh... start working on that?'

'We'll get to--'

"Hector? You okay?"

Finally reaching his locker, he turned and saw Micah standing there. "Uh... hi. I'm--I'm fine. Why?"

"Well, it's just, you're walking like you're half-dead or something."

"Ha... that's, um... yeah..."

"Did something happen to you?"

'Shit, what do I say?'

'Uh... You fell down the stairs!'

'That's stupid!'

'Just say it!'

"I fell down the stairs!" he blurted.

"Holy crap, seriously?!" Micah came closer, sizing him up and down. "Is that why you've been missing school? Did you break anything? Did you go to the hospital?"

"N-no... I'm okay. Just some... really bad bruising..."

"Wow, dude. Need me to carry your bag for you?"

He tightened his grip on the straps. "Th-that's alright... I'd rather hold onto it."

"Alright, well... come sit with us again at lunch, okay? We were worried when you didn't show up to school the past couple days. Sheryl thought she might've scared you off or something."

"Ah... yeah, okay..."

They walked to class together, and Hector was glad when he could sink into his chair in the corner of the room and just listen to the teacher talk. It was difficult to understand, having fallen so far behind on his homework, but he welcomed the comfortable normality of it. And the chair. Not having to walk anymore was amazing. He rubbed his chest and closed his eyes, trying not to groan.

'By the way,' said Garovel, 'are you feeling alright? In your head, that is. Not your body.'

Hector threw him a look. 'Excuse me...?'

'You're not feeling light-headed or disoriented at all? No inexplicable confusion or anything?'

'No... why?'

'No reason.'

'Garovel...'

The reaper hesitated. 'When I'm close to death, it will begin to affect you. Your consciousness will begin to... well... tear itself from your body. Perhaps even destroying itself in the process.'

'Ah... and disorientation is a warning sign?'

'Yeah. I suppose I wasn't as wounded as I thought. You'd be feeling some lingering effects, if I was.'

Hector struggled through the day. He wished there wasn't so much damn walking. A few times, he considered skipping class to go take a nap somewhere, but he knew Garovel wouldn't permit it. He tried to pay attention to each lecture, but he felt like he had missed more than a few things.

History class was the worst yet. Mr. Cormac was talking about the rise of workers' unions, and people kept raising their hands to ask questions about the royal family. Hector stopped trying to follow what was going on and just shut his eyes.

Garovel, however, did not. 'Something's strange here...'

'Hmm?'

'Raise your hand and ask why everyone is suddenly so interested in the Crown.'

'What? Why?'

'Because I want to know.'

'But... I don't like to... participate...'

'I don't care. You can be a shy bastard on your own time.'

He sighed and raised his hand.

Mr. Cormac stared at the hand a moment, about ready to lose his patience. "Yes, Hector?"

"Uh... sorry, I was just wondering... why... everyone else was asking about the royal family..."

A few laughs rang out, and the entire classroom turned to look at him.

His knuckles went white around the edges of his desk. 'Oh, fuck. What did you make me do...?'

"You're joking, right?" someone said.

"He really doesn't know?" said someone else.

He tried to melt into his seat. "D-did... did something happen...?"

"I know you've been absent," said Mr. Cormac, "but you didn't hear about it on the news or from your parents or anything?"

"H-hear what...?"

"Three days ago, someone tried to assassinate the Queen."

Hector and Garovel exchanged confused expressions.

## \--Second Oath--

## Queen and Country

#  ~Ch. 13~

# 'O, blood of noble birth...!'

The drawing room was quiet. Helen merely continued reading in silence as the young man on the other side of the broad writing table shifted uncomfortably for the twentieth time.

Helen had forgotten his name. "V"-something, perhaps. Highborn. Ties to her cousins in the House of Carthrace. Both attributes which disqualified him.

After a while of fidgeting, the young man finally grew bold enough to pose a familiar question. "F-forgive me if I sound impertinent, Your Majesty, but is there a purpose to this visit?"

She smiled. Your Majesty was how commoners addressed her. He should have said Your Highness. It made no difference to her, of course, other than providing amusement. "What purpose need there be?" she said.

The boy's face spoke of difficulty. "Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but it seems very strange that you would invite so many of us to sit with you individually... without purpose."

"Why should it be strange?" she said.

He had no answer, and the silence returned.

She looked at her clock filigreed in silver. "You may go now," she said. As the boy stood, she added, "Please send in the next person as you leave." She watched him go.

'It's finally the girl's turn, isn't it?' said Mehlsanz. 'Please tell me it is. I'm so sick of this waiting.'

Helen glanced at the reaper by the furnace. To her eyes, Mehlsanz was a ghostly gray thing, vaguely feminine in form, and perhaps even beautiful, in a haunting way. 'Indeed,' Helen said. 'I honestly do not care much for the waiting, either.'

'You couldn't come up with a plan that required less patience?'

'I would have thought a reaper of death to be well-suited to the task of waiting.'

'Suited. Not pleased.'

When the large doors opened once more and a young woman entered, Helen stood to greet her. "Please have a seat," she said.

The girl sat. She removed the sheathed sword from her belt and rested it by her side--a respectful gesture, if a bit antiquated due to the decline of swords among the Queen's Guard.

Lynnette Edith was her name. Only nineteen, according to her file, but her sharp eyes and harsh cheek bones made her look older. Her caramel brown skin clashed against the white-and-blue uniform. She kept her wavy, raven hair in a braided ponytail that came over her shoulder, and she was clearly not afraid to look the Queen in the eye.

"Do you carry that weapon wherever you go?" Helen asked.

"Yes, I do, Your Highness."

Helen did not let the silence last. "You are curious as to your presence here, no?"

"Yes, ma'am. Everyone is."

"It is all a ruse," the Queen said.

"Ma'am...?"

"To organize this very meeting with you," she explained. "If I met with you out of the blue, everyone would wonder why. You would be given far too much attention, which would ruin everything. If I meet with all one hundred and twelve of my Guard, however, then this meeting here becomes a matter of course."

Lynnette's posture stiffened. "Why would Your Highness wish to have a secret meeting with me? What could I possibly--?"

"You are one of the few people in this castle whom I believe I can trust. Most of your peers carry obligations toward their families, which exist within a sphere of complications and nuisances, to put it mildly. Your family, however, affords me no such trouble."

"My family, Your Highness?" said Lynnette. "Because I am lowborn...?"

"Indeed," she said plainly. "Lowborn families are rare, and while I am under no delusions that this alone renders you without ambitions or unequivocally loyal to me, I believe the fact that you are also ostracized by your comrades splits the difference."

The young woman's ice blue gaze hardened. "They don't ostracize me, Your Highness. I ostracize them."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because... ah... I must apologize, Your Highness. I spoke carelessly."

"No," said Helen, returning to her chair of velvet and rosewood. "Please speak candidly."

Lynnette took a moment to become certain again. "They are undisciplined, elitist fools, Your Highness. They think every minor effort they put forth deserves praise and rewards."

The Queen's hands came together at their fingertips. "I knew I would like you." She could hear Mehlsanz chortling.

The girl's expression betrayed nothing of her thoughts.

Helen decided to move on. "So. What have people been saying about my sudden interest in my guardsmen? What rumors have you heard?"

Lynnette seemed reluctant but answered nonetheless. "Most people seem to think you're looking for someone to investigate the assassination attempt in secret, because you don't trust the official investigators."

"Ah. I thought as much. Is that what you believe, as well?"

"In all honesty, ma'am, I don't really listen to rumors. I find them tedious."

"That is unfortunate, because you are going to start," said Helen. "You are my secret ally. You will tell me what others are afraid to. Listening to rumors is now very much worth your time."

"But, Your Highness..."

"I believe I have made myself clear."

She straightened, and then nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"You must tell no one of your work. Not your family. Not your friends. Not your superiors. No one can support you in these endeavors, except me."

"What endeavors, ma'am?"

"Two days from now, you will begin to observe my brother Nathaniel's chambers in secret."

"Prince Nathaniel? May I ask why?"

"At that time, I am almost certain that someone will attempt to plant evidence that implicates him as the assassin. I want you to remove said evidence and then follow the person who planted it."

Lynnette blinked. "Why would someone want to frame him?"

"Because he is guilty."

Lynnette blinked again. "W-what? I don't understand..."

"I have seven brothers," the Queen said. "Nathaniel is by far the most foolish. And while that does not allow me to forgive what he has done, there is no doubt in my mind that someone is using him. I want you to help me discover who my true opponent is."

The young woman's expression wavered for only a moment. "I understand, Your Highness. I will do as you command."

"Thank you, Lynnette. However, I must tell you, your circumstances will temporarily worsen, and I will not be able to improve them without revealing my intentions to my enemies. I am going to have you demoted to nightly patrols, where your absence among the Guard will be least problematic, but it will still not go unnoticed. Your superiors may have you removed from the Queen's Guard entirely."

"I understand..."

"Endure this hardship for me, and I shall show my gratitude as only I can. You and your entire family will want for nothing. That is my promise."

"Thank you, Your Highness."

"Please recite your task back to me."

"In two days, I will begin observing Prince Nathaniel's bedchamber. When someone arrives to plant evidence, I will remove it and follow the perpetrator, where I will attempt to learn the identity of the person responsible."

"It will likely be one or more of my brothers. I merely need to know which."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now be on your way. If anyone asks what happened during our meeting, tell them that you sat with me in silence, just like everyone else."

"As you command." Lynnette stood and returned her sword to its place on her belt.

"And please send in the next person on your way out."

Lynette nodded and exited the drawing room.

Helen eyed the reaper. 'I would like you to accompany her when the time arrives.'

'You don't trust her to follow your orders?'

'This is not just about finding my enemies,' the Queen said. 'I need new allies. I hope you will be able to tell me if she is as trustworthy as I think she is.'

'Alright. I suppose I don't have anything better to do.'

The next member of the Queen's Guard entered, and Helen bade him sit, allowing the quiet to return in force.

Mehlsanz floated around the new guest, eyeing him and soon growing bored. 'Do you really have no idea who convinced Nathaniel to kill you?' she asked.

'I fear I do not know my family as well as I should. I have often wondered what my father was thinking when he chose me as his successor. Surely, he must have known the ire it would earn me.'

'He must've really believed you were the best person for the job.'

'Perhaps,' said Helen. 'But the tradition of primogeniture is not so easily ignored.'

'Well, yeah. I doubt your father intended for the succession to get you murdered.'

'Given my circumstances, it now seems more likely that my father appointed me not because he believed I would do well, but because he believed others would do evil.'

'Hmm.'

'The most irritating part of it all is that I saw the assassination coming in time, and yet I could not save myself. Suddenly, my most trusted subordinates were nowhere to be found. I died, because I misjudged the true characters of my friends.'

'Ah. Hence, your determination not to make that mistake twice.'

'Yes...'

-+-+-+-+-

Sitting in his room, Hector scratched his head as he struggled over his algebra homework. Garovel floated next to him, reading the newspaper sprawled across his desk.

The rest of the school day had gone rather strangely. His new group of lunch friends had been extremely apologetic, even though he couldn't imagine what they had to feel sorry for. They ended up discussing television and pudding, afterwards, though Hector mostly just listened.

Carpentry club had been the real surprise, however. Word had gotten around of Hector's tumble down a flight of stairs, and when he had hobbled into the clubroom, thinking he would get a bit more work done on his helm, he had been assailed with a slew of inquiries and concerns about his health from everyone in the club. People who had ignored him for the past year were suddenly talking to him again. He handled the situation the best way he knew how. By running away. Or waddling briskly away, at least.

'Turn the page, please,' said Garovel.

He did so. "How much do you know about the Queen, anyway?"

'Not much. I know she's quite young for a functional monarch. Still in her early thirties, I believe. And I know it was a big deal when she was appointed by her father.'

"Oh yeah, I remember that. It was only like four years ago, wasn't it?"

'Yeah. She's the youngest of eight direct descendants, and all seven of her siblings are male. The King broke Atreyan royal tradition in a big way by choosing her.'

"That's right... I remember 'cause everyone thought she'd rule in name only or just... have her power taken away as soon as her father died... but he died like a year later, and nothing's changed. Well... until now, I guess..."

'I wonder if one of those siblings is responsible for the attempt on her life.'

Hector's brow receded. "One of her own brothers...? That'd be so fucked up..."

'Well, when you have that kind of power within your reach, and you're raised to believe it's your destiny or some stupid shit like that, only to see it given to someone else... I mean, who knows if that's really the case? But it's not hard to imagine, given what a huge fuss was made over her appointment initially.'

"Geez..."

'Shouldn't you be focusing on your math, by the way?'

Hector sighed. "I should be meditating..."

'You meditate way too deeply, you freak. I need you to turn the pages for me right now.'

"Maybe I can just... hang the pages from the ceiling, and you can float around them or something..."

'Just do your damn homework. You can meditate later.'

"Ugh... Y'know, I thought you'd be a faster reader than this."

'Oh, I'm sorry. How many non-native languages can YOU read? Because I'm only fluent in about three hundred or so.'

Hector blinked. "Three hundred?!"

'Well. A good number of them are dead, but still.'

"Hmm... You're thousands of years old, though. So that's only like one new language every hundred years. Not all that impressive, really."

'Oh, shut up.'

After quietly agonizing through a few problems with trigonometric functions, he was relieved to hear Garovel begin musing again.

'Hmm...'

"What's the matter?"

'It's just, this article...'

"Are you gonna start spinning wild theories, now?"

'No.' A beat passed. 'Maybe.'

"Ha."

'It says the Queen informed her own guards of the attack an hour after it occurred.'

"Huh... Is that odd?"

'Well. Kind of. You'd think the Queen's Guard would be a bit more on the ball, wouldn't you? Even if they'd been unable to stop the assailant, shouldn't they have at least known there was one? If not right away, then surely within an hour?'

"Well... uh... maybe there wasn't an assailant. Maybe someone just poisoned her drink or something, and no one saw who."

'Hmm. It says here that the Queen was "in a state of confusion" and has yet to remember any details of the attack. What the hell does that mean?'

"Yeah, I dunno about that one..."

'Apparently, she's scheduled a public press conference a few days from now, and they're expecting more details then.'

"Weird... It's already been three whole days, right?"

'This sounds like... a reaper may have been involved.'

Hector reared back. "W-what? What makes you think that...?"

'Mainly, the fact that it took her an hour to report the attack, but also the fact that no one else seems to know anything about it. Perhaps the reason she waited so long was because the assassin actually succeeded in killing her.'

"Damn... a reaper revived the freaking Queen?"

'There could be some other explanation I'm not thinking of. But it's not unheard of for reapers to take on people in positions of power and try to use that person for some purpose.'

"Holy shit... are you saying what I think you're saying...?"

Garovel looked at him heavily. 'If a reaper is controlling the Queen, then we'd better find out what their intentions are.'

"They could... they could start a fucking war, couldn't they?"

'It's a possibility.'

"...What do we do?"

'Hmm.' Garovel moved away from the paper. 'It'll be dangerous, but I think we should go to the capital and try to see the Queen.'

"Really? But, um... should we, uh... should we really just leave Brighton? I mean... what about Geoffrey? He could be hurting people. I feel like we should... uh, stay and... kill him..."

'That's another reason why I want to go, actually. I'm wondering if the Queen's reaper can tell us anything about what Geoffrey is. If they chose to revive a queen, then they're probably more informed about circumstances around the world than I currently am.'

"Hmm. But even still... there's no way we'd be able to get an audience with the Queen. I mean... even if someone hadn't just tried to kill her..."

'I can go in alone.'

Hector just lowered his brow.

'Don't give me that look. Meeting her won't be dangerous. If she's just been revived, then she won't be able to hurt me yet. But I definitely want you to escort me everywhere else. We might not be the only reaper and servant to pay her a visit.'

"You think so? Do you, uh... do you think I'm ready to fight another servant?"

Garovel fell quiet a moment. 'We won't engage anyone like that unless we absolutely have to. But all the same, you'd better start meditating.'

"Right..."

'Oh, but before you do, lay out the classified ads for me.'

"What for?"

'I'll see about finding you transport. Sescoria is a good four hundred kilometers away. You can't just run there.'

"So I'll take a train."

'Yeah... Problem with that is, we might have to leave Sescoria in a hurry. If we're getting chased, you won't exactly have time to stand around waiting for a train to arrive.'

"O-okay, but... I don't even have a driver's license..."

'I'll give you a day to practice.'

"Oh, gee, a whole day?"

'Twenty-four hours of nonstop practice should be more than enough to get the basics down.'

"Uh, but it's still illegal..."

The reaper shrugged. 'Eh.'

He sighed. "This is gonna end with me impaled on a fencepost or something, isn't it...?"

'Probably.'

"Ugh..." Hector rubbed his face. "This whole thing feels like a terrible idea..."

'I know it does. But a hell of a lot of lives could be in danger. And if they aren't, then so much the better. It could still be an opportunity to make a valuable ally.'

"Yeah... I guess you're right..."

'We only have a few days before her public appearance. Let's not waste them.'

He nodded.

#  ~Ch. 14~

# 'Foul souls, gather ye wits...'

Timothy Swank ducked into an alley and held his breath. In a cold sweat, he listened for the footsteps to pass. They did not.

"Are you trying to hide from me?"

He saw the figure there and screamed. "Please...! D-don't...!"

"Oh, stop your shrieking," said Geoffrey. Only, it wasn't Geoffrey. It was one of his expressionless puppets. This one was a girl, and she might have been cute before, but now her sickly pale skin and listless eyes just made Swank want to run away. "I am not going to kill you, Mr. Swank. You are much more useful to me alive." The rest of her face didn't match the words coming out of her mouth at all.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to shrink into the brick behind him. "You can make them talk," he said, trying not to tremble too visibly. "You weren't doing that yesterday..."

"Yes, I know." The puppet girl's smile made Swank cringe.

"I s-still don't know where Colt is... so, u-um... I mean, I'm looking. Of course I'm looking. But he's just--no one's seen him, so, ah, I d-don't... please..."

"I see. How unfortunate. I just wanted to check in. I am about to go into a meeting, but please keep searching in the meantime." A red vapor released from the girl's skin like a kettle just gone off, and she collapsed to the ground, twitching.

Swank thought he might vomit.

The past few days had been hell. He'd barely managed to escape the Rofal mansion with his life. Between Geoffrey, Colt, and that freaky kid in the mask, that place had been an absolute minefield, but somehow, shitting his pants in the corner of the room had been enough to render him beneath notice.

Geoffrey was decidedly not his uncle. Joseph Rofal understood that killing his employees for failure served no purpose. Geoffrey did not. Or perhaps he did and just didn't care, because simply fleeing was also out of the question. Two men tried to leave the city the other day. Geoffrey had their heads in his office now.

The search for Colt had not been much better. Of the three men that Swank sent to retrieve Colt's personnel file from the police station, only one returned, delivering a message to stop looking for the man. Geoffrey killed the poor bastard anyway.

He had no idea what to do at this point. The Rofal empire was a sinking ship, and its new captain didn't give a shit, because he was a fucking shark.

Swank left the girl's body where it was. He pulled his coat's collar up around his neck and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked. He had been on his way to a bar, and now, the idea of getting hammered out of his mind seemed even more appealing. It wouldn't do much to settle his stomach, but that wasn't really the point, anyway. He turned into his usual place, the neon green sign reading Bart's Bar. It was an armpit of an establishment, but he had yet to find a place with cheaper booze. He took the first seat he saw and petitioned the bartender for a bottle of vodka.

Not long into his drink, however, a man on the other side of the room got up and ventured over. "Are you Swank?"

Swank nearly told him to fuck off, but after reflecting for a moment on his recent string of luck, he decided he'd try not to piss off a total stranger. "Yeah. Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm no one important," the man said. "But I've been waiting here because I've heard you're the guy to ask about getting certain jobs done."

Swank could not imagine a more annoying answer. Still, he restrained himself with another mouthful of vodka and said, "That so?"

"I hear your boss is a man with discreet interests."

Swank rolled his eyes. "I guess you haven't heard that he's also dead now."

For some reason, the man took that as an invitation to sit down. "I'm sorry to hear that. Does that mean you're in charge now?"

"No."

"So you have a new boss, then. Perhaps I can meet him, instead."

He held back a laugh. "Trust me, guy. You don't wanna meet my new boss."

"Oh, but I do. The sooner the better, in fact."

Swank eyed the man. Something about the guy's face annoyed him, really clean-shaven with a chiseled jawline and a condescending look in his eyes. Swank took a longer swig. "On second thought, I'd like to see that, too."

-+-+-+-+-

Geoffrey tilted his head as he laid eyes on the lone pancake house. He hadn't been sure what to expect. Having to leave Brighton for some little town called Chesterville was strange enough to pique his interest on its own, but when he had also seen that the invitation was from the CEO of Boulder Inc., Geoffrey had been positively brimming with curiosity. Alone under a luminous moon, he entered.

Five people sat around a pair of joined tables. They all turned to look at him--as did the five accompanying reapers.

Geoffrey gave an open-mouthed smile as he looked over everyone.

"Have a seat, boy," said an older gentleman on the right.

Geoffrey approached them, and the reapers all edged away from him. To his eyes, each reaper looked very human, except a bit blurry and flickering like an old video recording. "Why did you invite me here?" he asked.

"Because I liked your uncle," the same man said. "Now be quiet. You haven't earned the right to speak at our table."

Geoffrey's smile tightened. "I do not like being told what to do."

The man held up an open hand and clenched it into a fist. "I said be quiet."

The air escaped from Geoffrey's lungs. His eyes bulged as he struggled for breath and found none available. He glared at the man and ran forward, but an invisible pressure held him back, sturdy as if a wall had been there.

Geoffrey lashed out with red, snaking around the room and across the table at the man's reaper.

The man stood and speared the shadow through the center with only an index finger. The shadow crackled and died. "I didn't know you were a monster when I invited you here," said the man, "but it changes nothing. You will learn respect, boy."

Geoffrey fell to his knees, able to breathe again. He scowled at all of them, but they paid him little mind.

"What were we talking about?" said someone with a low, scraping voice. This one was an even older gentleman, oily smudges all over his face and faded overalls. "Vincent?"

The man from before acknowledged his own name. "This business with the Queen," he said. "Each of our enterprises will likely suffer if blame for the attack is shifted to a criminal body."

"You think so?" said a younger man. This one looked like a common office worker in a plain gray suit and black-rimmed spectacles. "Isn't that why we refused that idiot prince's request in the first place?"

"Yes," said Vincent, "but if the investigators don't realize it was his doing, then the result is the same. And I'm betting the prince will make sure they don't realize."

"Fair point," said one of the two women at the table. She was younger as well, with a plump, rosy face. "If the public believes some random criminal tried to kill the Queen, then there'll be a wave of support for stricter legislation and law enforcement across the board. Things'll only get harder for us."

"But the Queen must have her own plans as well," said the other woman. "She has clearly been taking her sweet time with this whole ordeal. She might just expose the true culprit on her own."

"Perhaps," said Vincent, "but if we can assist in that, we should. Or at least ensure a suitable scapegoat takes the fall."

"You want us to help the Queen?" said the oldest man. "Us?"

"She is young," said Vincent, "and likely now a servant as well. If she were to become indebted to us, our position would be much improved, wouldn't you agree?"

"Are you serious?" said the man in glasses. "That woman is going to have a target on her back, and not just from her brothers. If she really has a reaper now, then the Vanguard and Abolish must be watching her. One or both of them could send someone to kill her. Are you suggesting we get in the middle of that shitstorm?"

"I'm not saying we should stick our necks out for her," said Vincent. "But I do think one of us should go to the capital and observe the situation. If things go badly enough, it may be best to pull up our roots and move to a new country."

"Fuck that!" said the man in glasses. "Atreya is my home. I'm not leaving for anyone."

The others all eyed him.

"That is your choice," said Vincent.

"We already have plenty of eyes in the capital," said the plump woman.

"Yes, but only a servant's eyes will do. It has to be one of us."

A brief silence fell over the group. "Are you volunteering?" asked the oldest man.

"If that is the group's wish," said Vincent. "But truth be told, I was hoping Roman would do it."

The man in glasses cocked an eyebrow. "Why me? Gerald lives in the capital."

"He can support you, but your ability is ideal for the task. If you need to kill anyone, you'll have the easiest time making the body disappear."

Roman frowned. "I do have my own affairs to run, you know."

"I'm sure your second-in-command can handle things while you're gone," said Vincent.

"Ugh. Fine." Roman looked at the old man in overalls. "Mind if I temp at your garage, then?"

Gerald looked similarly displeased. "Just as a cover, right? You won't be doing actual work, will you?"

"I don't even work at my real job. You think I want to touch your shitty cars?"

"As long as that's clear. I have an actual clientele depending on my mechanics."

Roman laughed. "Right. You just spend time with us because you like our personalities so much."

"A good reputation is easiest to maintain when part of the business is both legal and public," said Gerald.

"Whatever, old man," said Roman. "Vincent's the only one of us who really needs a legitimate business."

"A certain degree of independence is also important. But I don't expect a thief to understand a businessman's thinking."

Geoffrey despised listening to this drivel. None of it was of any concern to him. Eyeing the reapers again, he wondered why none of them ever said anything. Perhaps they were hiding their voices from each other for some reason. Or from him. Unlike their human associates, the reapers seemed particularly wary of his presence, which pleased him to no end.

The people kept talking, but Geoffrey had ceased paying attention. Instead, he made a game of staring at the reapers, trying to see just how unsettled he could make them. His game came to an abrupt end, however, as Roman grabbed him by the neck and pinned him to the floor.

"My friend doesn't like you," said Roman. "And I'm inclined to agree with her."

"Stop," said Vincent. "The Rofal boy is my guest."

"This thing isn't even human," said Roman. "I don't see a reason to let it live." Roman's fingers dug through the red shadow and reached Geoffrey's skin.

His neck started to burn. The man's hand felt like acid against his flesh. Geoffrey cringed in real agony. But after a moment, he began to laugh. "You can actually hurt me!" he said, eyes widening eagerly. "Aha! More!"

Roman obliged, and Geoffrey's laughter turned to coughing.

Vincent stepped closer but did not intervene. "It's true that he requires discipline, but he could be a useful pet. And we can use him to leverage the Rofals for support. Killing him would certainly burn that bridge."

Roman let up. "I'm not so sure these fucking things can be tamed, Vincent. Just look at him."

Each breath felt like swallowing fire, but the pain only delighted Geoffrey further. "Do you people know what I am?" he asked, voice raspy and torn. "Tell me!"

"Ah." Vincent pulled the boy to his feet. "Learn to obey, and I will tell you all I know."

Geoffrey's expression soured.

#  ~Ch. 15~

# 'Behold! Thy deathly steed...!'

'This is the address that was in the ad,' said Garovel.

'I still think this is a terrible idea...'

'Just ring the doorbell.'

Hector pushed the button and heard the chime go off inside the house.

A brawny, middle-aged bloke opened the door. He scratched his head as he looked at Hector. "Yeah?"

"Ah, I, uh... I'm the one who called earlier, uh... about your ad..."

"Ugh, you?" The man frowned. "Why ya gotta waste my time like this, kid? I thought you sounded young on the phone, but hell."

"No, I, uh... I want to buy it for my dad."

"Yeah, sure you do." He started closing the door.

Hector stopped it with his hand. "Please, just..." He dropped a duffel bag full of cash on the doorstep.

The man eyed the money, and then Hector. "A gift for your dad, huh? Let me show you to the garage."

Hector picked the bag back up and followed him around to the rear driveway. They entered a standalone shed where the man pulled a tarp off of a motorcycle.

"Here we are," the man said. "You know much about bikes, kiddo?"

"N-not really, no..."

"Well, like the ad said, this is a Revenant Softail RS1800 Cruiser."

"Right. Um... w-what do all those words mean, exactly?"

He squinted at Hector a moment, perhaps debating whether or not he wanted to answer that question. "Revenant is the name of the manufacturer," he explained. "Softail is a type of rear suspension--basically means it's not as bumpy as other bikes might be. RS1800 is the model number. Cruiser is just a general type of motorcycle, as opposed to say, a sport bike or a touring bike or something."

"Ah... okay..." Hector eyed the bike's silver frame and black leather seating.

"It's about eight years old, now, and it has a hundred and eighty thousand kilometers. It's been good to me, but keeping it maintained has become more of a hobby than a need, these past few years."

Garovel started laughing. 'I hope you like skulls, because this thing has them all over the gas tank.'

"It, uh... it does actually run, right?"

The bike seller retrieved the key from a rack by the door, as well as a helmet and a jacket.

Hector tried to watch as carefully as possible while the man started the bike. He saw the guy turn the key in the ignition first, then turn a tiny spindle at the neck of the handlebars, then hold a metal clutch with his left hand, and then finally slam his foot down on the ratcheting lever beneath the seat. The engine roared to life, and the man took the bike out of the garage.

Hector watched him ride it up and down the street, and that was good enough for him. The money changed hands, as did the key and helmet, and Hector was soon wheeling the bike down the sidewalk. The man told him that all the paperwork was in a compartment beneath the saddle, but Hector wasn't terribly concerned about it, and after seeing the money again, neither was the man.

He pushed the bike all the way to the empty parking lot of a long-abandoned department store. He took a deep breath as he stared at the machine.

'Try not to wreck it before we even get it on the road,' Garovel said.

"Yeah, thanks..." He whipped his leg over the side and steadied himself. He was abruptly thankful it wasn't taller, because his feet barely reached the ground. He attempted to mimic what he saw the guy do before, but Garovel stopped him as he went to turn the spindle below the handlebars.

'Don't do that,' the reaper said. 'That's the choke. It enriches the fuel-air mixture in order to make the engine start more easily, but you only want to do that when the fuel is cold--or in other words, when the engine hasn't been started recently. Otherwise, you're just wasting fuel.'

"Oh... how the hell do you know anything about motorcycles, anyway?"

'I had a passing interest in them a few years back. I remember when I first saw one. Looked like a lot of fun. Then the guy riding it crashed into a hedge.'

"How comforting..." He started the engine.

'My knowledge is pretty spotty, though. You'll be shocked, I'm sure, but I've never actually ridden one personally, so you'll kinda be on your own with some things.'

With the engine roaring, Hector reverted to thought. 'Great... can you, um... can you at least tell me how to start moving?'

'Shift into first gear, and it should start going on its own, I think.'

'Uh... how do I shift into first gear?'

'There's a lever by your left foot. Push it down.'

He did as Garovel said, and indeed, the bike began to drift forward, slow enough that he could walk with it. 'Now what?'

Garovel hesitated. 'Um...'

'Really? That's the extent of your help?'

'Try the throttle,' said Garovel. 'Under your right hand. The brake is there, too.'

The bike surged forward, faster than Hector expected. He pulled on the brake, and the back tire came up. He fell out of the seat. The bike skidded slowly into him on its side.

Garovel floated over to him. 'Well. I guess the paint job wasn't important.'

The plan was to spend the entire day learning, of course. Garovel had allowed him to skip school, even, which gave Hector some idea of how important the reaper considered this trip to be. And as expected, the going was quite slow. He first practiced low-speed turns. Garovel advised him that for this type of motorcycle, turning at higher speeds would require countersteering, but to even reach those higher speeds, he had to be able to shift gears in a passable manner, which was perhaps the hardest part.

Shifting gears was an actual skill that he had to develop. It meant closing the throttle, holding the clutch, moving the lever with his left foot into the correct position, then easing off the clutch and throttling to pick up speed. Hector often released the clutch too quickly and ended up stalling the engine, but after a while, he started to get the hang of it.

Before attempting higher speeds, however, they decided to take a break. Hector had to fetch more fuel, anyway, and not being confident enough to actually ride to a gas station meant walking all the way there, purchasing a pair of canisters, filling them up, and overpaying the bearded clerk so that he didn't think too hard about what Hector wanted it for. He also grabbed a bite to eat and took the opportunity to meditate for a little while.

'Alright, try hitting me,' said Garovel.

'What?'

'That's how we'll gauge your progress. If you can hit me, then you can hit Geoffrey. Or another reaper.'

'Are you serious...?'

'Hey, I'm not thrilled about it, either. Why do you think I didn't have you practicing this as soon as I revived you? Once you get it down, you'll be able to kill me.'

'Then I definitely don't want to practice on you...'

'Oh, please. You're not going to kill me on accident, Hector. Give me some credit.'

He pursed his lips. 'Alright... here goes, then...' Hector inhaled deeply and closed his eyes a moment. He made a fist and focused on it. Like anyone, he didn't need to see his own fist in order to know where it was, but there was more to it now. He could place a presence into his fist, and it felt as if his entire arm had doubled in size. It hadn't, of course, but there was a weight in his mind there, and he knew it was ready.

He smacked Garovel in the torso.

Garovel eyed him a moment, not looking particularly fazed. 'Hmm. Well, I felt something at least. That was kind of pathetic, though.'

'Gah...'

'You sure you're not holding back on me?'

'I... I don't know, I mean... I really don't want to hurt you, Garovel...'

'Okay, okay. Fine. How about just aiming for my perimeter, then?'

'Huh? Perimeter?'

'Yeah. You said you see me as a skeleton, right? So I have hands and feet and everything?'

'Uh... actually, I'm not sure whether you have feet or not. I see hands, though, yeah. You want me to punch your hand?'

'Yeah. Anywhere but my center, and you won't hurt me.'

'You're sure about this...?'

'Duh.'

'A-alright...'

'Don't hold back. This is important, Hector. If you don't learn this properly, we are both going to die. You understand? The only way to really stop a servant is to kill the reaper, and reapers can't even touch each other, so it has to be you. Sooner or later, we will find ourselves in that situation, and if you can't kill them, they will kill us. There is no doubt here.'

Hector nodded slowly. 'Okay. I, ah... I won't...'

Garovel's brow lowered. 'Excuse me? You won't? Hector, what the--'

'N-no, I meant, ah... I won't let anyone kill you. I'll protect you. Definitely.'

For a moment, the reaper just looked at him. 'Well, prove it, then.' He held out his skeletal hand.

Hector gathered his focus again. He envisioned the presence in his hand again. Determination colored everything in his mind. This had to work. Garovel's life depended on it. He felt the massless weight, stronger than before. He threw the punch.

Garovel's hand obliterated on impact. The reaper reeled back. 'Agh, fuck! You asshole!'

'Oh, shit! I'm sorry!'

'Only joking.'

'Agh, wha...?'

'That was better, though. Good job. You've pretty much got it down, already, but you should keep practicing until it becomes second nature.'

'You dick...! I really thought I hurt you!'

'Oh, c'mon, that was funny.'

'But your hand is gone! How does that not hurt?!'

'Yeah, about that, um. It'll grow back. And I don't really feel pain. At least, not in the same way you do. It's more like an extreme unease. It's painful in the same way that a sudden surge of anxiety or fear is painful.'

Hector looked at him unhappily. 'Geez... don't do that again...'

'Sorry.'

He looked at his fist, opening and closing it. 'You were right, though. That was kind of easy...'

'Yep. All it really takes is an acknowledgement of your imaginary mind as something real. Which, y'know, isn't very difficult, given everything you've already experienced. But that's just for the basics.'

'Hmm. Why can't normal people do this, again?'

'Because the soul has to be carved out of the body first, which is something only accomplished by death.'

'Does that mean Geoffrey died before, too?'

'Egh, I don't know. Maybe. But I got the impression he had been that way his whole life.'

Hector wanted to try materializing iron next, but Garovel said that could wait, so he returned to riding practice instead. He donned the riding helmet and mounted the bike. It was time to start picking up real speed.

He had not been looking forward to this part.

After going around in a circle and achieving his previous pace, Hector throttled up and shifted gears when Garovel told him to. The bike responded, and soon, he was going much faster than was comfortable. But that was the point of the exercise.

He sped across the massive parking lot, coming up to the edge and knowing he would have to make a gradual left turn. He moved the handlebars to the left, but the bike resisted and leaned the other direction.

'Countersteer!' said Garovel.

'Oh, shit! But--!' He struggled, and the bike just went straight.

'Too late. Try to protect the bike, if you can.'

'Fuck!'

The front tire hit the curb. The bike flipped, and he went flying.

Hector hit the dirt head first. He tumbled over himself and landed just perfectly enough to see the bike sailing toward him. In the split second he had to react, he decided to embrace the madness and put his arms out wide to catch the bike. The rear tire crushed his ribcage, but his hands grasped the metal frame and held on.

Eyes wide, he set the bike down. He looked down at his caved-in chest and tasted a mouthful of blood. 'It doesn't hurt...'

'I got to you just in time,' said Garovel. 'You're welcome by the way. And nice catch.'

Practice resumed. By the time daylight began to wane, Hector had crashed several more times, though none so bad as before. When Hector finally felt as if he had acquired a passable degree of competence, the bike was hardly recognizable anymore with all its new dents and scratches.

As the engine began to make a fresh clanging noise, Hector slowed to a stop. 'That can't be a good sound...'

'Yeah. But it's fine. We don't need the bike to last that long. It'll probably get destroyed one way or another, anyhow.'

'Really? It's starting to grow on me, though...'

'Don't get too attached. I'll be shocked if it's not a smoldering pile of scrap in a couple weeks.'

'Aww...'

-+-+-+-+-

"I h-have someone here who wants to meet you..." Swank squirmed under Geoffrey's gaze.

"Oh? Show them in, then."

Swank exited the room briefly and returned with the person in question.

"You are the man in charge?" said the stranger, smiling in a groomed, confident way. "You're much younger than I anticipated."

Geoffrey was not in the most amiable mood. Mr. Vincent Boulder had told him to go home and talk to his family, which in itself was no terrible thing, but even so. Geoffrey was being told what to do again. And perhaps worse, he couldn't actually refuse.

So when he set his sharp eyes upon this strange man, the first thought through Geoffrey's head was that he would very much like to torture this person. So he did.

There was no need for a chair. Geoffrey pinned him to the floor with a blanket of red and stood over him, smiling and trying to decide which body parts he wanted next. Swank, of course, had left the room shortly after the agonized screaming began.

"Why are you doing this?!" the man kept saying. His face looked much better now, Geoffrey thought. Replacing the eyebrows with bloody gashes made him seem much less condescending. "What possible reason could you have for doing this to me?!"

"Hmm." Geoffrey stroked his own chin a moment. "How much do you like your nose, exactly?"

The man shrieked. "Please! Stop this! I'll do anything you want! Just--! Please! I only wanted to talk!"

Geoffrey's brow perked up. "Oh, right. What did you want to talk about, anyway? If it is something boring, you will not be leaving this room alive."

The man whimpered. "I-I'm an advisor to Prince Nathaniel... and I was asked to find someone who w-would... u-um..."

Geoffrey placed a red blade under the man's nose.

"Kill the Queen!" he said. "He asked me to find someone who would kill the Queen!"

"Aha." Geoffrey smiled curiously. "And you want me to do it?"

"I-I think we thought you'd just, ah, s-send someone else to do it..."

"Oh. Well, no deal then."

"Y-y-you can do it yourself, if you like! It's fine! Do whatever you want! I'm sure Prince Nathaniel would appreciate that kind of can-do attitude!"

Geoffrey thought a moment. "By chance, did you ask anyone else to do this before me?"

"Uh, y-yeah, I did. But they refused. So I came all the way out here to Brighton, because I heard of the Rofal family's reputation--and might I just say, you have lived up to it most admirably. You certainly have. Why, I'm sure you're a much better person for the job, anyway. I don't know why I didn't come to you first, in fact. How silly--"

"Please stop talking."

The man just nodded.

Geoffrey frowned. "I suppose I should not kill you, then. My dear uncle said it was bad business to kill your employer, unless you wanted their job, and I certainly do not want yours." He released the red shadow and used it to prop the advisor up on his feet. "When do you want me to do it?"

The man hesitated. "You don't want to know why he wants her dead?"

"Not really, no. When do I kill her?"

"Ah--as soon as possible. Preferably before her press conference two days from now."

Geoffrey just grinned.

"W-we tried to kill her before, you see, but we failed, and now Prince Nathaniel is worried, um, that-that she is going to expose him, so--"

"Yeah, whatever. Do I only get to kill the Queen, or can I kill some of the other royals, too?"

The man's eyes bulged. "J-just the Queen, please..."

"Oh, very well."

He had not forgotten what he heard the night before. Those five people with reapers had wanted the Queen to live, of course; but then, neither had they expressly forbidden him from killing her. So as far he was concerned, he was not technically disobeying Mr. Boulder.

Geoffrey's grin only widened the more he thought about it. "This is going to upset some people I know," he told the advisor as they exited together. "But that only makes me want to do it even more. I wonder what they will do."

#  ~Ch. 16~

# 'Trust thy suspicious heart...'

The last day of meetings with the Queen's Guard had begun. Helen sat across from yet another discomforted young man in abject silence.

Having Mehlsanz observe the castle for the past few days had been a rather convenient means of gathering information. Only two of Helen's brothers, Nathaniel and David, lived with her in Belgrant Castle, but all seven brothers were currently visiting. They had, of course, rushed to be by her side as soon as they heard the news of the assassination attempt. In fact, one of the reasons she had decided to employ this strategy was for the peace it afforded her from their incessant "advisement."

To her mind, the most likely culprit was her oldest brother, Prince Gabriel, as he had been the presumed heir to the throne before her ascension. And yet, according to Mehlsanz, Gabriel was not behaving strangely. If he was guilty, then he was hiding it well enough to fool someone he couldn't even see. However, Mehlsanz could not keep eyes on him at all times while still observing the others as well.

The young Lynnette Edith had thus far proven loyal. Mehlsanz had not seen her tell anyone of Helen's orders, even when asked by her comrades, but again, Mehlsanz could only give an incomplete account of events.

The drawing room's side door opened, and a blond-bearded man popped his head through. He looked directly at Helen. "I know you wished not to be disturbed, but I need to speak with you."

Helen excused herself and stepped into the adjacent room with him.

This man was William Belgrant. He was her husband. And in the event of her death, all the power of the Crown would pass to him.

According to Mehlsanz, he had been working harder than anyone else to find the assassin, but that somehow made him more suspicious in Helen's mind. If she was honest, he was the very last person she wanted to be responsible for the assassination attempt, but that was emotion talking, not reason, and she refused to let that blindside her.

Still, it made little sense for him to desire her death. Yes, he was the King consort and not the King regent, but there was no terrific discrepancy between the two, unless his political views were wildly different from what he claimed they were. And surely, fourteen years of marriage had taught her something of this man's heart. He may have had the biggest motivation to kill her, but she couldn't imagine him doing such a thing. At the moment, anyway.

Taking long, slow blinks with bags under his eyes, William led her to the other end of the L-shaped chamber, and motioned to the rather broad, elderly woman standing there--his aunt, Duchess Jezebel Belgrant. "She told me something that I thought you should hear," said William.

"I believe I know the assassin's motivation," said the duchess.

Helen merely waited for her to elaborate.

"It has to do with your tendency to... ignore certain members of your council. Most members, in fact."

"I am not certain as to what you are referring," said Helen.

Jezebel frowned, and the many wrinkles on her plump face turned down as well. "You know there is considerable support for the expansionist movement, yes?"

"We believe your opposition to the movement is what prompted the attack," said William.

"Ah," said Helen. They weren't telling her anything she didn't already know. There wasn't much else that would spur one of her brothers to kill her. But these two probably didn't know that her brothers were responsible. All the same, she guarded her tongue. Until she knew their true loyalties, she saw little reason to give them information needlessly.

"I'm surprised you needed us to tell you," said Jezebel. "A queen should know her court better." The woman had never been short of criticism.

Helen gave a squinting smile. "I will take that under advisement. Can you tell me who leads the expansionist movement?"

"I'm afraid not," said the duchess. "There are at least a dozen council members supporting it, all of equal standing."

From the corner of her eye, Helen saw Mehlsanz phase through the wall. She decided to thank the duchess and the King for their information and return to drawing room, reaper in tow.

'You really think your husband did it?' said Mehlsanz. 'He seems like a decent man.'

'I must be certain. I never gave it much thought before--and perhaps I should have--but I recall William being initially reluctant to marry me.'

'Oh? And you weren't?'

'I... quite fancied him.'

'Aha.'

'He has never been terribly affectionate. But then, neither have I.'

'Y'know, I had an arranged marriage, too. Though, I was a slave, so my parents didn't really have a say in it, either.'

Helen took her seat again. 'You were a slave?'

'Only until I was old enough to give birth,' said the reaper. 'My master sold me off straight away. Little did they know that I was infertile.'

With the young guardsman still present in the room, the Queen just glanced at Mehlsanz.

'Anyhow, you should really get some meditating done.'

'I still do not understand how you could need me to protect you from anything.'

'Yeah, well. The world is a bigger and scarier place than you yet realize, Your Majesty.'

'Please do not call me that.'

'Helen of the House Belgrant?'

'Simply Helen will suffice.'

'Okay, Simply Helen.'

'You...'

'Sounds like the title of a movie. "Simply Helen. Come along as one woman discovers what it means to be herself." I bet you'd go see it, too, you generic old biddy.'

'You are insufferable...'

'Yeah, you definitely would.'

'Please return to observing the castle.'

'Fine. Do your meditation while I'm gone.'

'Very well.'

The reaper left, and Helen attempted to do as she was asked, but she found it incredibly difficult to meditate with a stranger watching her. Surely, the guardsman must have thought she was sleeping, and the idea that he would then return to his comrades and tell them of how he saw the Queen sleeping on the job was more than enough to disturb her focus.

At length, however, Mehlsanz interrupted her vain efforts. 'Oh no...'

'What is it?'

'I found a wandering soul in the basement. Someone died down here. And recently, too.'

'How recently?'

'Hours, at most.'

-+-+-+-+-

Hector didn't mind the highway so much. The turns were long and gradual, and there wasn't much traffic this early in the morning. The only bad part was having to avoid road debris. He couldn't just run over a blown-out tire or a plastic jug and expect to keep control of the bike.

Save the dwindling towers of Brighton, rolling green hills filled all horizons as he sped across the road. White and dark clouds spotted an otherwise blue sky, and Hector could see a faint drizzle gathering on the visor of his helmet. Garovel had pointed out that it was unsafe to continue using a helmet that had already been involved in a collision, and Hector had promised to find a new one at the earliest convenience, since they were obviously so safety conscious.

He couldn't remember a time when he saw the Atreyan countryside so clearly. The most mundane things drew his gaze. A massive, lone tree, branches sprawling higher and wider than anything he'd seen in Brighton. A quaint flock of sheep grazing on a hill, shepherd and dog not far away. The faint shadow of eastern mountains on his right, thankfully not between him and Sescoria.

Then he felt the bike shake beneath him and realized he was straddling the yellow ridges in the middle of the road. He corrected his course and decided to save his gawking for later.

'There are some things I should tell you before we get there,' said Garovel.

'Things?'

'In particular, names. I don't know what we'll encounter in the capital, but I figure this'll become relevant eventually, anyway, so I might as well tell you now.'

'Okay.' Hector was just trying to keep his eyes on the road.

'With reapers, there are two big entities: Abolish and the Vanguard. The balance of power shifts between them. Though, for all I know, there could be a third major power these days. I'm a bit out of the loop, if that wasn't already obvious.'

'Hmm. These two sides are at war?'

'Constantly. All over the world. Been that way for ages.'

'Geez... what are they fighting about?'

'Well,' said Garovel, 'you remember how I said that some reapers are trying to make things worse?'

'Yeah?'

'I was talking about Abolish. That's what they do.'

'Why?'

'The main reason is that they all want to "move on" into the afterlife. See, they believe that the reason reapers exist is to ferry human souls into the afterlife; and moreover, they believe that once there are no more souls left to ferry, our "purpose" will have been fulfilled, and we will then be able to proceed into the afterlife ourselves.'

'But... is that, I mean... is that true?'

'No. It's bullshit. There's absolutely no reason to believe we'd be magically transported to another plane of existence just because everyone on Eleg dies.'

'Y-you're sure?'

'Even if we suppose that it is true, I still think it's fucking crazy to use it as justification to destroy humanity.'

'Eesh... They really wanna destroy the human race? I mean... that's just so...'

'Stupid?'

'It's just... you guys can still die, right? I mean, if these Abolish guys wanna get to the afterlife so badly, then why don't they... y'know... have one of their servants kill them or something?'

Garovel sighed. 'Because they believe in that fucking thing called "destiny." They think a higher power has ordained us to be reapers, and if we kill ourselves to avoid that divine responsibility, then we get punished in the afterlife. Or some shit like that--I dunno. It's all very disturbing. And also, because they're cowardly, deluded bastards.'

'But... wouldn't a higher power or whatever... have a problem with them killing everyone?'

'One would think. Hey, I told you they were fucking crazy.'

'Gah...'

'Though, I imagine that some reapers have actually done that before--just trained up a servant in order to end their own lives. But obviously, those reapers would be dead now, and not causing problems for us.'

'Mm, good point...'

'And honestly,' Garovel went on, 'I don't think all the members of Abolish actually believe it, either. I think some of them just relish the opportunity for destruction. Which, y'know, I can almost understand. Destroying things is fun. But not when it causes wanton misery and death.'

'That kinda sounds like... someone we already know...'

'You noticed that, too, huh? I've been wondering if Geoffrey is somehow tied to Abolish, as well. But if he was, you'd think that he would've already known what reapers are before he met us.'

'Maybe he was lying.'

'Eh, that's a strange thing to lie about. And I'm not sure Geoffrey even knows how to lie. He was more than happy to talk about his murders.'

'Ah... so then, what about this, uh... Vanguard group? They're trying to protect the world?'

'Yeah. You have to understand, though, that both groups can be broken down into tons of smaller factions, each with slightly different goals or variations on the beliefs of the whole. While we might be able to find allies in the Vanguard, we can't count on them to always be friendly. I remember a few reapers there that we really don't wanna be around.'

'Wait. Are you a member of the Vanguard?'

'I used to be. My last servant and I worked with them for a long time, so I know a lot of reapers there.'

Hector's brow perked up. 'Your last servant... what happened to him? Or... her?'

'We'd been together for a while, and he'd grown tired of it all. He decided that he was ready to die, so he asked me to release him. And I did.'

'What was he like?'

'Some other time. Right now, you need to know the big names--the most powerful servants in the world, that is. The names that everyone knows not to fuck with, including us.'

'Ah, uh--okay...'

'There are four names you need to be particularly aware of. They are Dozer, Morgunov, Sai-hee, and Sermung.'

Hector squinted. 'Dozer...?'

'You know how there's also a country called Dozer, right?'

'Yeah...?'

'That's not a coincidence.'

'Oh...'

'Morgunov and Dozer both lead Abolish, even though they're said to hate each other. Sermung leads the Vanguard by himself, and Sai-hee is neutral.'

'This Sermung person fights two at once?'

'It's not just them, remember. They have armies of reapers and servants supporting them, and even though they might be the most famous, their highest ranking subordinates are also extremely powerful. But yes, Sermung is an absolute monster.'

'I see...'

'Age is generally the determining factor. These four people have been emperors of the community for, I dunno, two or three hundred years now; and that's because they've survived the longest. I think Sermung is about six hundred years old, and I think the others are all similar.'

'Eesh...'

'I know a little more about Sermung, because I actually met him before--him and his reaper, Tenebrach.'

'Whoa, what were they like?'

'They were a fiercely impressive pair. Honorable, intelligent, and... they had this odd presence that was just... overwhelming to be around.'

'You said... he's six hundred years old, but... isn't that actually kind of young? I mean, if the oldest servants are the most powerful, then I would've thought he'd be like... as old as you, basically. Y'know, thousands of years.'

'Ah. Yeah. Well. There's a long and complicated history, but suffice to say, the most powerful people in the world tend to get killed, eventually. The longer an empire exists, the more prone to corruption and so forth it becomes. Sooner or later, new generations rise up; a massive power shift takes place; and then it's utter chaos until a new balance of power is achieved.'

'But not in the past couple hundred years, you said?'

'Things have reached a kind of stalemate, I suppose. Big shifts in power generally require these rising stars--that is, servants whose power is skyrocketing because they're constantly involved in huge conflicts. Which happens quite a lot, actually, but I think the trouble nowadays is that the emperors are all paying close attention to this. When they see some young gun making waves in the world, they don't just ignore that person.'

'What, so they just kill them?'

'Or recruit them, yeah. That's the deadliest time period in a servant's growth. You suddenly have four giants breathing down your neck, and you're left with a choice: pick a side, or try to survive long enough to become an emperor yourself. Which isn't exactly a fun dilemma to be in. I know a lot of reapers intentionally release their servants before they reach that threshold just so they won't be targeted.'

Hector's eyes widened, and he shifted his hands. 'A-are you gonna do that with me?'

'Don't be stupid. Of course not.'

'But then... are you saying you want me to join the Vanguard? Or... become an emperor? Because I wasn't really planning on, uh... I mean, I...'

Garovel laughed. 'I just want you to stay alive, Hector.'

'I... I mean, you're talking about all this crazy stuff, but... I just wanna protect people... y'know, if I can...'

'That's good enough for me. We'll worry about it later.'

Abruptly, Hector noticed a highway police truck coming the opposite direction. His posture went rigid, and he held his breath as he waited for it to pass. It did, and he watched in his side mirror, making sure it didn't suddenly turn around.

After a few minutes, he relaxed again. Then he took the next turn too wide, ran off the road, and flipped the bike into a ditch.

#  ~Ch. 17~

# 'Hold thee dear...'

Hector proceeded on, though the cruiser now sported a bent kickstand, a grass-smudged dent in the gas tank, and a missing left side mirror. His helmet had cracked open like an egg, and now he could feel the wind brushing the top of his head.

He soon stopped to refuel. He looked for a new helmet in the shop, but it didn't have any.

'Maybe you should just use your helm,' the reaper suggested.

Hector reached into the satchel over the rear tire and pulled out the helm. The large gouge across the top right temple abruptly reminded him of his fight with Geoffrey.

'Then again, maybe not.'

Hector pursed his lips to one side. 'I think I... hmm...' He pressed his palm to the metal and slowly moved it across the cut. In his hand's wake, the sundered metal was filled in. Once finished, he held it up to look at his work. His iron was clearly darker than the rest of the helm's sheet metal, so it looked like a kind of jagged scar with specks of iron splaying outward.

Garovel tilted his head. 'Hey. Since when have you been able to do that?'

'Uh... just now, I guess. I didn't really think it'd work, honestly...' He tapped a finger against it, and the iron rattled. 'Ah, it's loose, though. I couldn't make it fit perfectly...'

'Oh, why don't you just cover the whole thing?'

'Huh?'

'Instead of just filling it in, add an entire layer of iron.'

He blinked. 'That's a great idea...' He breathed deep and moved his hand all across the helm until it was completely darkened. The dents from the original molding were no longer visible. The new coating stuck fast, one solid chunk. 'Wow... it's a lot heavier now, but it's a lot stronger, too...'

'And it doesn't look so shit anymore.'

Hector snorted a laugh. He considered coating the inside of the helmet as well, but he figured it fit his head snugly enough already. He did add smoother corners to the jaw, however.

'Hmm. What else can you do with your iron?'

'Uh... I'm not sure, actually...'

'Try creating something from scratch. Like a replica of your helm.'

His brow receded at the idea, but he nodded and returned the helm to its satchel. He rubbed his hands together a moment, then slowly pulled them apart until it was as if he were holding an invisible ball between them.

Gradually, he could see the dust appear on his skin, gathering into powdery chunks, then into one larger mass, like grains of sand forming a tiny hill and climbing it.

But it didn't take shape properly. Hector squinted as the iron amassed into an amorphous lump, far too small and nothing like the image in his head. He frowned at his work.

'Wow,' said Garovel. 'You really did start shitting out metal turds.'

'It doesn't look like...' His frown deepened. 'Actually, it kinda does...' He let the lump drop from his hand and made it disintegrate before it touched the pavement. 'Specific shapes are too difficult,' he said. 'Just giving things a thin coating is way easier.'

'I suppose that's to be expected,' said Garovel. 'It's like the difference between tracing a picture and drawing something completely new. But your skill is definitely growing. And iron coating could prove immensely useful. How much coating can you create?'

'Let's see.' Hector stuck his arms out as if hugging the air in front of him. He concentrated, and the metal began to swirl around his fingertips. Iron powder collected together, covering his hands completely in lustrous metal, running up his wrists, reaching for his elbows. It stopped before touching his shoulders, however, and he shut his eyes, shaking his head. 'I think that's all I can get...'

'Well. Color me impressed, Hector.'

'R-really?'

'Yeah. Unless you've just trapped your arms in your own metal, that is.'

He smirked and annihilated the iron. He stretched his arms and popped his knuckles.

'By the way, those people are staring at you.' Garovel pointed to the pump station behind Hector, where a family of four was gawking with varying degrees of confusion.

Hector flushed red. "Uh... I was, uh... that... mgh..."

'Time to go?'

'Y-yeah.' He donned his helm and gave the family a stilted wave before roaring out of the gas station.

His helm didn't have a visor like the riding helmet, so he had to get accustomed to squinting against the bit of wind that made it through.

He came upon an amusement park with a big green sign that read 'Serpent World' in swirling letters. He'd forgotten it even existed out here. The place was famous for its winding coasters and snake exhibits. He remembered wanting to visit as a kid.

Seeing the park meant they were close to the capital, he recalled, and sure enough, no more than ten minutes later, he could see Sescoria's skyscrapers in the distance. A couple of suburban towns still lay in the way, but they soon fell behind him.

Traffic picked up as he entered the city, and he stiffened his posture, trying to watch the road even more carefully. He eased to a stop at the first intersection. 'So, um, how do I get to the royal palace?' he asked as he waited for the light to turn green.

'The Queen doesn't live in the palace,' said Garovel. 'She lives in Belgrant Castle.'

'Oh... then what's the palace for?'

'Ceremonies, international receptions, that sort of thing. Though, I'm sure she could've lived in the palace if she wanted. Some of her relatives probably do.'

'Huh...'

'You really should know more about your own country, Hector.'

'I, ah... yeah, okay...'

'Just keep going until you see Belgrant Avenue and turn right. Should lead us straight there.'

Hector had only been to Sescoria once before, years ago for a field trip in elementary school, and he didn't remember much--just some museum, an old knights' monument, and the palace itself, which was a massive, turreted affair with people always bustling through it. The city center, he discovered, was oddly similar in that regard. Pedestrians and vehicles filled the streets, and buildings were often rounded, if not perfectly cylindrical, with flat rooftops and arching windows.

Blue was a frequent color, he noticed. Sky blue brick here, pale blue wood there, even the sidewalk turned a faint blue as he rolled up toward the Belgrant Gatehouse.

To Hector's eyes, Belgrant Castle was certainly no less impressive than a palace. Through the gaps between the fence's thick, white bars, he could see a lush garden sprawling across an entire city block and a fountain splitting the center walkway up to the main entrance. The castle itself was a multi-towered structure, rising up four stories and flying Atreyan flags on both ends. He'd also heard that the rear of the castle extended out onto a small lake, but he couldn't see it from this angle.

Passersby were starting to give him strange looks, so he removed his helm and held it under his arm. He saw two lines in front of the gatehouse: one for vehicles and one for foot traffic.

He looked at Garovel. 'What's the plan?'

'You wait here, while I scout the situation.'

'That plan sucks.'

'No arguing. I'll tell you if I need you.'

'How would I get to you in time? Just climb the fence in broad daylight?'

'Yes.' Garovel grabbed Hector's shoulder. 'I don't care if you have to break into the castle live on television. You get your ass over there and protect me.'

Hector felt the vigor course through him. He inhaled deeply and exhaled a laugh. "Okay, I will," he said, drawing more discomforted glances. The sudden energy made every muscle in his body anxious. 'How long does this boost last?'

'Should last about half an hour before I need to renew it. So, I won't be long.'

He looked through the fence another time and saw numerous guards patrolling the grounds. 'Keep me updated.'

'Of course.'

-+-+-+-+-

The guards found the body stuffed into a storage locker. They said it was a young man named Mark Stockton. She remembered him. He was a serving boy, no more than seventeen. He often brought her meals. She doubted that was coincidence.

Helen decided to cancel the rest of her silent meetings. Time was no longer her ally, she realized. And besides, Mehlsanz refused to leave her side now, apparently afraid to chance upon the murderer without Helen to protect her.

She found her husband just outside their bedchamber. She dismissed the attendant he was talking to and pushed him into the room, shutting the door behind her. "I need to know something, and I need to know it now," she said.

The King straightened and met her gaze. "Yes?"

"Were you the one who tried to have me killed?"

His expression turned over on itself. He blinked and opened his mouth but hesitated. After a moment, his eyes narrowed. "Is that why you have been so distant these past few days? You suspect I had something to do with it?"

"Yes."

He lowered his brow and breathed a short laugh. "I always did like your candor."

"I do not see what is amusing," she said. "Goddess, William, if you had that boy killed because of some quiet grudge against me, then I--"

"I did no such thing! Helen! How can you even think that I--?!" He stopped himself, pensive. He took a breath and scratched his brow. "No. I understand. This is just like you, isn't it? Suspecting everyone. And as well you should, I suppose. But I promise you, I had nothing to do with it. Any of it."

"Convince me," she said.

His expression hardened. "Fine. What are your reasons for suspecting me, then?"

It was her turn to be reluctant. "Well, firstly... you did not wish to marry me."

"Helen, that was a lifetime ago..."

"What was the reason? Or reasons. Tell me the truth, William."

He cast his eyes at the floor briefly, frowning as he looked back up at her again. "I had feelings for another woman when we met. She was a commoner. My parents did not approve and so organized my marriage to you."

A familiar story. Her brother David experienced something similar, though he did not go through the marriage--or rather, he had gotten the woman to hate him so much that she refused to go through with it. As for William, Helen could believe him. She remembered how timid he was in those days, particularly around his family.

"I never resented you," he said. He took a deep breath. "In fact, I... I've never loved anyone more in my life."

Her eyes widened, and she turned red.

'Wait, what?' Mehlsanz floated around the two of them. 'Why the hell are you blushing? You've been married to this guy for years, already.'

Helen struggled for the right words. "I did not realize you felt that way..."

"I often find it difficult to tell you my feelings..."

'Are you fucking kidding me?'

"William, I also... love you."

'Hold on, this is a trick, isn't it? You're trying to trick him, somehow.'

The King smiled.

The Queen smiled.

'Holy shit, it's not a trick.'

Helen's smile weakened. "I also thought you might resent me for never wanting children."

"Honestly, I never wanted children, either," he said. "My family wanted an heir, of course, but I was quite content with upsetting them by then."

'What the fuck is happening right now?' said Mehlsanz. 'You do remember that there's a murderer loose in the building, don't you? More than one, if you count Nathaniel.'

That brought Helen's attention back to the present, and she looked at William again. "If you are not the one responsible, then the most probable suspect is Gabriel."

The King blinked at her. "Gabriel?"

"Nathaniel poisoned my wine," she said. "I have known all along that he was the assassin, but I do not yet know who convinced him to kill me." She could see the gears turning in William's head.

He pressed a hand to his temple. "Gabriel... yes... He has been trying to convince me to support the expansionist movement for months now. He wanted me to talk to you about it. He thinks you don't listen to him."

"That is because I don't."

"His nationalism must be even stronger than I imagined if he would go so far as to have you killed. His own sister..." He straightened. "This changes things. I need to meet with my aunt again. She probably knows more about Gabriel than I do." He moved for the door.

Helen stepped closer. "Before you do, can you find a guardswoman named Lynnette Edith and tell her to come see me?"

"Lynnette Edith?"

"I do not wish to see her in public, but I need to amend my orders for her."

He nodded. "Very well."

They paused a moment, standing by the door together, both abruptly realizing that their conversation had ended. Then the King kissed her, and they let it linger.

"Please be careful," she said.

"You as well." And he was gone.

Helen turned away from the door, rubbing her flushed face and trying not to look at Mehlsanz.

'Well, aren't you just adorable.'

She stiffened. 'I was merely trying to ensure his cooperation.'

'No, you weren't.'

'W-we are often apart, traveling internationally. Our relationship has--has been very--oh, why am I justifying myself to you, anyway?'

Mehlsanz just laughed.

'Excuse me,' came another voice.

They both turned to see a second reaper hovering by the window.

'I apologize for the interruption, but I'd like to inquire... Wait. Aren't you Mehlsanz?'

'I am.' She tilted her head. 'Garovel?'

'You remember me. So it was you who revived the Queen, then?'

'Indeed.'

'I didn't think the Vanguard was in the habit of reviving royalty. Wasn't there a rule about that? Affecting the living world too greatly or some such?'

'I left the Vanguard,' said Mehlsanz.

Garovel floated closer. 'Why?'

'It's a long story. Reviving the Queen was my attempt to stop the Vanguard from hunting me down.'

'They want to kill you?'

'They don't just let you leave, anymore. It's not like it was when you were there, Garovel. I attached myself to her because now killing me also means killing her.'

'Ah.' Garovel eyed the Queen. 'A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Majesty.'

Helen nodded. "Likewise."

'What are you doing here?' said Mehlsanz.

'I was worried that whoever revived the Queen wanted to exploit her influence. I'm relieved to see that's not the case. Or is it?'

'Of course not. Did you bring a servant?'

'I did.'

'How powerful?'

'Why do you ask?'

Mehlsanz hesitated. She looked between Garovel and the Queen. 'I was backed into a corner. They were going to kill me. You understand?'

'I don't. What're you getting at?'

'The Vanguard won't come after me,' she said. 'But now... Abolish probably thinks that the Vanguard is trying to seize Atreya.'

"Give the lady a prize," said a voice beyond the bedchamber door. A man entered, dressed as a butler. He had a reaper with him. "That is indeed why we have come."

#  ~Ch. 18~

# 'O, crashing pyre...!'

She didn't recognize his face. He was a redhead, young and stocky, and the butler's suit barely fit him. She could see blood on his sleeves, as well as a guardsman on the floor in the hallway.

"Finally," the man said, not even bothering to close the door behind him. "We've been waiting all day for a chance to talk to you alone."

'Less alone than we expected,' said his reaper, eyeing Garovel. 'And just who are you? You didn't identify yourself as Vanguard, either.'

Garovel chose not to reply.

"Perhaps we are being rude." The man pressed a hand to his chest. "My name is Desmond," he said. "This is my friend, Ezmortig."

'Frankly,' said Ezmortig, 'we are relieved to hear that you are not with the Vanguard. And yet, after coming all the way here to Atreya, it would be a waste to leave now.'

"What do you want?" said Helen.

Ezmortig looked to Mehlsanz. 'Your cooperation, of course. Having Queen Helen on our side would smoothen the transition.'

"Transition to what?"

'War,' said Mehlsanz.

Helen's brow lowered. "I think not."

"Now, now, Your Majesty. Hear us out."

'We're listening,' said Garovel.

Desmond stepped forward. "See, your brother, Prince Gabriel, he thinks he hired us. He doesn't realize that we found him. And while he seems like a cunning man, I think everyone here can agree that he's in a bit over his head, now."

'We don't care who's on the throne,' said Ezmortig, 'just so long as they're ours.'

"The Prince wanted us to waltz right in, kill you, and be done with it," said Desmond. "Which, admittedly, I'm still more than happy to do, but my friend here says that killing the Queen would cause a bit of a stir--both politically and publicly. And I'm inclined to agree, because if it comes to a fight, I might accidentally destroy half this castle. So we thought we should at least give you a chance to make things easier for everyone. And hey, the best part is, you all get to live."

She saw Garovel and Mehlsanz exchange looks.

'Very well,' said Garovel. 'What exactly do you want the Queen to do?'

Helen was about to protest when Mehlsanz's voice silenced her.

'Listen. Only you can hear me,' she said. 'We're merely stalling, so don't fight. That man will kill all of us.'

"Well, the expansionist movement is a good start," said Desmond. "Greater militarization efforts would--"

'Stop,' said Ezmortig. 'That was far too easy. I don't know about this Garovel here, but Mehlsanz was Vanguard. She wouldn't cooperate so easily.'

Desmond frowned. "What're you saying?"

'They're up to something. Kill them now.'

Desmond smiled. "Can do."

'Wait a minute,' said Mehlsanz. 'We acknowledge that we're no match for your servant. We're simply--'

'You're lying,' said Ezmortig.

Desmond approached, and Helen put herself in front of the reapers.

Mehlsanz touched Helen's shoulder. 'No helping it.'

Desmond held an index finger up to her face. "You don't even have an ability yet, do you?"

Helen grabbed the finger, intending to break it, but it snapped right off. It darkened in her hand and started sizzling as Desmond backed away.

'Get rid of it!' Mehlsanz shouted.

She tossed it. The finger exploded in mid-air. Helen staggered back, half the flesh gone from her face.

'He has a transfiguration ability!' said Garovel.

"That's right." Desmond was there, and he grabbed the Queen by the neck, lifting her off the ground. "You're not much of a fighter, are you, Your Majesty?"

Dizzy, Helen could only see through one eye, the other just a bloody gash, slowly growing back.

'Behind you, Desmond.'

Lynnette's sword hacked the man's arm clean off, and Helen hit the ground. Desmond spun to swing at the swordswoman, and she hacked the other arm off as well.

He looked at his two stumps, then at her, and laughed. "Impressive. But you're out of your depth, girl."

Lynette brandished her two-handed blade. Desmond dodged the next slash smoothly and swept at her legs, but she was ready, bounding back a step and slicing his foot off.

The foot was already sizzling, however, as it rolled to a stop in front of Lynnette's confused gaze. Helen tackled her to the ground, and the explosion rocked the whole chamber.

Helen's back and legs smoldered, sundered muscle and snapped bone under shredded cloth, but Lynnette was tucked safely beneath her, dazed and intact. "Please stay back, Lynnette," she said softly.

Desmond pulled her off Lynnette with his one returned arm. "I thought the guards were supposed to protect the Queen, not the other way around."

A heavy thud made the walls tremble.

"What was that?" said Desmond.

Helen elbowed him in the nose, making him release her, and she hit the ground flat.

Desmond shook his head and scowled, but another thud made him pause. He looked to Ezmortig. One more thud, and the ceiling gave way on top of him.

Through the rubble, a thick marble slab fell toward Desmond. He raised both sleeveless arms and caught it full on, making the floor crack beneath him.

A black figure was crouched atop the slab, grasping its broad edge with both hands and staring down at Desmond through a metal helm.

"You must be that other reaper's servant." Desmond grinned up at him, still holding the marble steady. "Nice entrance."

-+-+-+-+-

Desmond chucked the slab across the room.

Hector bounded off of it, coated one shoe in iron, and punted Desmond into the far wall, stuck waist deep.

'Kill the reaper now!' Garovel shouted.

Hector lunged for Ezmortig, swiping at him with iron-tipped fingers, but the reaper sunk through the floor first.

'Nice try, bastard.'

Hector growled and looked back toward the others.

Lynnette was helping the Queen up, bloodying her uniform in the process. Helen steadied herself and saw Hector there.

It was the first time Hector had ever gotten a good look at the Queen. Even on television, he'd only caught the odd glimpse of her. But perhaps now wasn't the most accurate depiction, either. She didn't look like she was having the best day, what with her blue-gray pantsuit in tatters and her makeup smeared with blood.

'Introductions later,' Garovel said preemptively. 'We should leave.'

'Your servant can't defeat Desmond?' said Mehlsanz.

'I don't know, but I doubt he can kill the reaper before Desmond brings down the building.'

Hector nodded. "Okay, we'll meet you at the bike."

'No,' said Garovel. 'There could be other enemy servants. We stick together.'

"Who is he talking to?" said Lynnette.

Desmond broke himself free of the wall.

'Go now!' said Garovel.

The Queen ushered Lynnette out of the room, and Hector brought up the rear, seeing Desmond starting toward them.

'What did you say his ability was?' Hector asked as they ran.

'Transfiguration. He can make his body parts explode. I'll explain if we make it outta this alive.'

A swarm of guardsmen were waiting in the foyer.

'Tell them to get back!' said Mehlsanz.

"Do not engage!" Helen yelled as they pushed through. "I order you all to move away from here!"

Hector looked back again and saw Desmond's entire severed arm flying toward them.

'That'll kill everyone here!' Garovel yelled. 'Hector!'

He understood and jumped. He caught it by the wrist and pulled it tight against his chest. The darkened flesh crackled, burning. Hector rushed to cover his torso with metal.

The explosion ripped his arms and legs off. His metal shredded like paper. He flew over the crowd of guardsmen and smashed into a chandelier. Glass shattered and rained down on marble tile as he hit the floor and rolled up against a limestone pillar.

Everything was red, presumably from blood in his eyes. He couldn't breathe and was pretty sure he'd ruptured both lungs. He knew his limbs would soon grow back, but he couldn't help panicking at not being able to feel them at all. Not being able to move. Not being able to speak. Barely being able to see or hear.

But after a moment, he felt someone pick him up. The numbness in his ears quickly subsided, and he turned his eyes up to see the Queen's face there.

"I have you, young knight."

"How is he still alive?! For that matter, how are you, Your Highness?!"

They made it out into the courtyard. More guards were there, and the Queen yelled at them to disperse as they pushed through.

Desmond was soon to catch up. However, he stopped, as did everyone else, when they saw the gatehouse crumbling ahead of them.

"Aww," said Desmond. "I wanted to do it on my own."

A broad-bellied man lumbered out of the rubble, arms like tree trunks. His red hair was a bit darker than Desmond's, and he could not have been any less than two meters tall. A reaper followed him.

'Did you really have to destroy the gatehouse?' said Ezmortig, overlooking the scene from the sky.

'You made a mess first,' said the new reaper.

Desmond laughed. "Hey, I tried to tell them we weren't the people for this job."

The big guy seemed to have nothing to say. By the look on his flat face, he scarcely seemed aware of what was happening.

Hector still needed more time to regenerate. He'd barely recovered his knees and elbows.

Aside from Lynnette, one of the guards had yet to flee as ordered. He was a bespectacled man, and he stepped toward the giant, fiddling with the black brim on his officer's cap. "I really hate you Abolish guys," he said. "Always recruiting these poor simpletons as servants. Aren't there enough crazy assholes like that guy over there?"

'Who the hell are you?'

"I'm Roman. And you fuckers aren't welcome in my country."

'And I'm Voreese.' Yet another reaper appeared, straight out of the ground. 'This is our land, you shitheads.'

"Oh, shut up," said Roman. "No one cares what you have to say."

'Fucking brat! I'm the important one here! You're just my servant!'

"You'd be dead if it wasn't for me!"

'No, you would! I'd have found a different servant! One who didn't give me so much lip, you four-eyed fuckwit!'

"Imaginary bitch!"

The Queen set Hector down as his hands and feet began to form, bones emerging before the flesh around them.

Desmond rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles. "We're more than happy to kill you newcomers along with everyone else."

The big man charged at Voreese.

Roman slammed his foot down. The ground heaved up and flipped the big man toward Desmond like a pancake.

Desmond just moved out of the way.

Roman tossed his white coat to Hector. "C'mon, kid. This is no time to be free-ballin' it."

Hector turned beet red and hurriedly wrapped the cloth around his waist. He held it there with an iron band.

Another sizzling arm flew at the group.

Roman swatted it straight up into the air, and it exploded harmlessly. The big guy's gut bulged, and a second later, he vomited acid.

The left side of Roman's face and torso melted away, revealing raw bone and gooey, bubbling muscle. Undeterred, he raised a fist. It trembled and started crackling red, creating visible smoke. He put the hand out. Orange flames poured forth.

Their opponents split up to avoid the fire, and Roman pursued the big man.

'What kind of ability does that guy have?!' Hector was back on his feet.

'Vibration of some sort. Keep your eyes on Desmond.'

Hector saw him approaching from the side. Desmond was still regrowing his arm. "I'll hold his attention," Hector whispered to the ladies. "Try to get behind him and take his head off."

"Very well," said Helen.

Lynnette nodded and readied her sword.

Hector moved first, a frontal assault. Desmond dodged the punch and delivered his own to the gut, knocking Hector back a few steps.

Hector kept pressing. He coated both hands in iron and swung. Desmond caught the left hand and ripped it off at the wrist. He slammed Hector into the concrete, making a small crater.

Abruptly, Lynnette was there. But Desmond saw her and smacked the flat side of the blade before it could connect with his neck. Off balance, she struggled to maintain her grip, and this time, Desmond succeeded in sweeping her legs out from under her. She landed on her back, and Desmond left a severed hand in front of her face. For an instant, Lynnette and Hector could both see it darkening.

She didn't have time to crawl away. She was going to die. Hector knew it. Someone else was about to die in front of him.

The memory of Garovel's words flashed in his head.

Respond by becoming better.

Hector flexed his one hand. He focused on Lynnette, desperately demanding more from himself, more iron, more concentration, more everything; and for a moment, all the pain in his body wasn't numb anymore. Agony hit like a tidal wave. But the iron responded.

Powder materialized on her body, gray spots clustering together, and within seconds, the woman was entirely covered.

Desmond's hand exploded. Lynnette went flying and clattered to the concrete walkway. Hector hit the central fountain, reddening the waters with his blood.

His body in shreds again, he heaved himself out of the pool and clung to the side of the fountain. He saw Lynnette and released the metal. She did not stir.

Desmond and Helen were clashing now. With both arms again and only one hand missing, he was getting the better of her. He smashed her skull open against the ground. Her body went limp.

Desmond turned to Mehlsanz and Garovel.

"Run away!" Hector told the reapers. He pulled himself out of the fountain, soaked and crawling.

"They won't run," said Desmond. "What do you think'll happen if they abandon you here? Eventually, you'll stop coming back to life on your own, and they won't be able to find new servants, because they're still bound to you. I'll put your brains in nice little jars, and then hunt the reapers down at my leisure. And besides--" He pierced his own chest with his hand. "--I've got something for runners." He pulled out his heart. Its pulsing, crimson flesh began to darken.

Mehlsanz and Garovel went underground.

"That won't save you!" Desmond laughed, rearing his arm back.

Hector gritted his teeth and pumped his fist sideways.

Desmond's throw had the force of a cannon. The heart did not leave his grasp, however. He looked at his hand and saw it enveloped in metal. "Aw, you fuck--!"

The metal turned to dust just before the heart exploded. Desmond's body blew apart like a watermelon wrapped in dynamite.

Hector rolled over onto his back. 'I got him...'

'Really?' Garovel poked his head out of the ground. 'Wow, Hector... I thought we were dead for sure.'

He just took a heavy breath. The Queen's head was regenerating, and Lynnette was still motionless.

'Did you kill Ezmortig, though?'

'No.' He saw Ezmortig in the sky. 'And I can't reach him, either...'

'Then we only have a few minutes,' said Garovel. 'We should leave while we can.'

'Maybe that other guy can reach--'

Roman came tumbling past, bouncing across the walkway and skidding into a tree. So much of his skin and muscle was melted off that half his skeleton was visible. Green and yellow steam hissed around his body. He could still move, however, and wore a scowl on what remained of his face.

'What the hell are you doing?!' said Voreese. 'That guy is beating your ass!'

"Shut up!" Roman's lungs convulsed in his ribcage. "It's the acid! It's really hard to move when I don't have any fucking muscles!"

'Don't be a wuss, Roman!'

"Fuck off!"

The big man stomped toward them. Roman slammed a bony fist to the ground, and the giant sunk through a sudden hole in the concrete. Up to his belly, he struggled a moment, then tore his way out of the ground, preparing another swell of acid in his gut.

Hector covered the man's mouth in iron.

Acid spewed forth and ate through the metal, but not before splashing back onto his face. His eyes boiled out of his head.

Roman blinked. "Nice one, kid--"

The man lumbered forward anyway and vomited more acid on him.

"Fuckin' dammit." Roman struggled to raise a steaming hand as the man drew closer.

Lynnette's sword exploded out the giant's forehead. She clung to his back as he hit the ground face-first. Everyone stared at her as she wiped her blade on the dead man's shirt.

"Where's the other guy?" said Roman. "If we get both their brains, we can stop them from regenerating."

"He blew up," said Hector. "I'm pretty sure his brain isn't in one piece anymore..."

"Shit. Then his reaper can remake him anywhere."

'If Desmond is coming after us again, then we should prepare to receive him in a more favorable location,' said Garovel.

'Agreed,' said Voreese. 'Roman?'

"Alright, follow me everyone. Carry the Queen, kid."

'His name is Hector. And mine is Garovel.'

Hector dragged himself over to the Queen as the last of his broken bones repaired themselves. Lynnette offered assistance, but he was strong enough again to carry Helen on his own.

"Dammit." Roman stood over the big guy's corpse. "The acid seeped in and started melting his brain. This guy's gonna be remade somewhere else, too."

Roman led them over the ruins of the Belgrant Gatehouse. Abandoned cars lined the street, doors left ajar. No doubt people had fled after seeing the gatehouse fall and hearing the subsequent explosions. Sirens in the distance warned of an imminent police presence.

Roman shambled toward a tour bus at the tail end of the traffic jam. He was still missing a quarter of his flesh. He no longer wore a cap, and his undershirt was gone, save only his left sleeve.

"Oh, I don't even have to hotwire it," said Roman. "Keys are still in the ignition. You drive, sword girl. I'll tell you where to go."

Lynnette stared at him, perhaps wondering if he was even human. "Why can't you drive?" was all she asked.

He waved a hand in front of his face. "I don't have my glasses. They melted."

The Queen stirred in Hector's arms, and he set her down in a chair behind the driver's seat. She shook her head, blinking a few times.

'Welcome back,' said Mehlsanz.

Hector took the seat across from her as the engine started.

"What happened?" the Queen said.

"We survived," said Roman. "But the enemy will be back. We're going to my associate's garage. We'll be in better fighting shape with his help."

'Who are you people?' said Garovel. 'Vanguard?'

'No,' said Voreese. 'Are you?'

'No.'

'So we're all independent here.'

'Seems that way.'

The bus hit a curb, and everyone eyed the driver.

"...I've never driven a bus before," she said over the noise.

"Just turn right when you reach Willard Street."

Mehlsanz tilted her head. 'That girl is strangely understanding, considering she can't see the three of us.'

"She is a good soldier," said Helen.

'I'm sure you'll have fun explaining the situation to her later,' said Mehlsanz.

"I am still not sure I understand the situation myself."

The journey was a short one. The tour bus pulled up to a quite well-kept auto body shop, and everyone exited. Fully regenerated, Roman led the group inside.

There were people in the waiting room. They eyed the new arrivals uncomfortably.

Roman rang the bell at the front desk. "Gerald! Get your crusty old ass out here!"

The others all exchanged glances.

The door behind the counter opened, and the elderly mechanic stepped through. He took one look at Roman and sighed. "Alright," said Gerald. "I'm sorry to everyone who was waiting, but we're closed now. I need you all to leave."

"What?" said one man, standing. "But you have my car. I need it tomorrow--"

Roman stepped in, smiling. "I know it's inconvenient, but trust me, pal. This is for your own good." He grabbed a pad and paper off the counter and scribbled a quick note, handing it to the customer. "Here. Go to this address and give this note to the cute blond girl there. She'll provide all of you with new vehicles, free of charge."

The man's expression faltered, and he read the note. "Wha--this address isn't even in Sescoria. This is a hundred kilometers away!"

Roman's smile waned. "Then I guess you'd better get going."

"This is ridiculous!"

Helen intervened, and the stranger did a double take. "Please listen to him," she said. "Some very bad people are coming here. They will kill you if you stay."

It didn't take much more convincing after that. The customers soon filed out of the building.

"So who's coming to kill us?" Gerald asked.

"Abolish," said Roman. "Two members, both pretty strong, but nothing we can't handle."

Gerald's expression darkened, and he looked over the group another time.

Roman scratched his bare chest. "By the way, you got any spare clothes?"

#  ~Ch. 19~

# 'Come forth, ye jubilant devils...'

A line of police officers stood in Geoffrey's path. "Sorry, this area is closed off," one of them said.

Geoffrey's green balloon-hat waggled as he ogled the mass of rubble and abandoned vehicles behind the line. "What happened?"

"We can't disclose that information," the officer said. "Please turn back."

Geoffrey frowned, but obliged.

The prince's advisor, whose name Geoffrey had still not bothered to learn, was waiting for him at the nearest street corner--as was an enormous yellow-and-green boa constrictor. The man was clearly a wreck, and having the snake at his feet was doing him no favors.

"It seems we missed all the fun," Geoffrey said sadly. "Maybe we shouldn't have stopped at that amusement park after all."

The advisor watched the boa slither up Geoffrey's body and coil around the young man's shoulders. "I still don't understand w-why that thing listens to you..."

"Oh, it does not listen. It simply has no will of its own anymore." He scratched the snake's head. "Normally, animals tend to dislike me, you see. I was never very good with pets, but they did provide valuable practice."

Abruptly, a red-haired man turned the corner. "Over here, you said?"

'Yeah. Should be--ah, there it is.'

Geoffrey's brow rose as he spotted the reaper approaching from behind the stranger. "Why, hello."

The stranger returned a wide smile. "Wow, it really is an aberration! Hello there, little fella. How'd you get all the way out here to Atreya? Not lost, are you?"

Geoffrey tilted his head. "Excuse me? Who are you?"

"Ah, I'm Desmond Grantier. This is my friend, Ezmortig. I assume you can see him, yes?"

"I can. Why do you seem to know about me?"

"Oh, we belong to Abolish."

"Abolish?"

Desmond blinked at him. "Don't you even know where you come from?"

It was Geoffrey's turn to blink. "Where I come from?"

'Oh, Heavens, child! Don't tell me you think you're human!'

"No, I know I'm not. But I can't say I know what I am, exactly, either."

"You, my delightful friend, are what is known as an aberration. You are the offspring of the Void."

"The Void? What are you talking about?"

"It's a place," Desmond explained. "The Void is what we call the space between this life and the next. It straddles the line between realities. Ezmortig here, he always has one foot in the Void, so to speak."

'But it's also a consciousness,' said Ezmortig. 'People might tell you otherwise, but don't you believe them. The Void has a silent will of its own, and it spawned you and all your kin. With a little help from Abolish, of course.'

"There are others like me?"

"Of course. You thought you were alone this whole time?"

Geoffrey just shrugged, making his balloon-hat bob.

"If you'd been born into Abolish's care, that never would've happened."

'Interesting. I didn't think aberrations could be born in the wild. Perhaps you were simply separated from Abolish by way of some mix up.'

Geoffrey cocked an eyebrow and chuckled. "Are you saying I was switched at birth?"

'That's possible, too, but not quite what I meant. While I don't understand the finer details of the birthing process, I do know that aberrations are created after the fetus has already started growing in the womb. Maybe your mother received the treatment without her knowledge.'

Desmond smirked. "You think the research divisions have taken their work to public hospitals?"

The reaper paused. 'Actually, now that you say that, I don't think so. I doubt R&D would have been deployed to this country without a combat division for protection. There must be some other explanation for this boy's presence here.'

"Curious." Desmond eyed him again. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen. Why?"

"Ooh, older than I thought. How many people have you killed?"

"I have not been keeping track, honestly. A couple dozen, perhaps?"

"Not bad," said Desmond. "Maybe you haven't realized yet, but your power grows as you consume souls."

"Oh! That would explain why I feel stronger lately."

"Yeah, aberrations are great that way. But you should be careful not to kill too many people too quickly, or you'll end up drawing the attention of the Vanguard."

"What is that?"

"Our enemies. They know about aberrations. They fear you guys, and rightly so. If they realize you're here, they won't hesitate to send one of their strongest people to kill you."

"Sounds like fun."

"Oh, it can be, but only when the time is right. Aberrations are all about momentum. You can grow in power much more quickly than we can, but you have to kill a lot of people while still staying hidden. Otherwise, you'll be stomped into oblivion before you ever get a chance to become a genuine threat to the enemy."

"Hmm, I see. I suppose killing the Queen of Atreya would be doing exactly that, then."

Desmond laughed. "You're here to kill the Queen?"

"Yes."

"No kidding! We came to kill the Queen, too!"

"Really? Oh! Are you the ones responsible for all that destruction over there?!"

"Yep! Sadly, though, she managed to escape. Some other servants got in our way."

"Servants?"

"People with reapers. We're a bit outnumbered, actually. Why don't you join us in hunting her down? If you stick with us, we'll keep you hidden from the Vanguard. Or protected, at least."

"That sounds wonderful!"

"Excellent! I really like your snake by the way."

"Thank you! They were upset when I took him, but the hat was simply not enough of a prize for me."

"Entirely understandable."

-+-+-+-+-

"I wanted to thank you for saving Her Highness's life," said Lynnette. "As well as mine."

The young man had been given short-sleeved coveralls to wear, which were at least a size too big for him. He'd rolled the legs up around his ankles and tightened the denim around his torso with a strip of metal.

Lynnette had caught him in the midst of restoring the metal of his helm. Just one more thing on her list of questions to ask.

When he looked at her, though, his brown eyes widened, and he averted his gaze.

"I'm Lynn. I didn't catch your name."

"I, uh... it's... I'm... H-Hec..."

Her brow tilted as she waited.

"H-Hector."

"Nice to meet you."

"Y-yeah, I-I... I'm, ah... I..." He just gave up this time.

She scratched her cheek. "Um. How are you not dead, anyway? And how are you molding metal with your bare hands?"

"Ah--that... ah... I'm not... uh... agh..."

"Are you alright?"

He turned away and donned his helm before looking back at her. "Yeah, I'm--I mean... I... fagh... I still... can't..."

Lynnette just frowned.

The ensuing silence soon grew uncomfortable, and Lynnette decided that Hector probably wanted her to leave him alone, so she went to check on the others.

"--you should give Vincent and the others a call, just in case," Roman was saying to Gerald. "If we find somewhere to hole up while they come to Sescoria, then we'll be able to minimize our risks and overwhelm the enemy easily."

As Gerald looked over their group another time, his expression hardened. After a moment, he went into the garage, with everyone following uncertainly. "Hey!" he shouted at his mechanics. "You're all fired!"

They clearly didn't understand.

"I said you're fired! Get the fuck out of here right now! I'm not joking, assholes! Get out!"

"What're you doing?" said Roman. "There's no need to fire anyone. Just send them home while we take care of things."

"Don't be stupid," said Gerald. "The others won't come to your aid. And neither will I."

Roman's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"The opponent is Abolish. You think killing two of their members will make them give up?"

"It will," said Roman. "Think about it, Gerald. They only sent two servants. Atreya obviously isn't a priority for them. They're busy waging, what, three different wars? More? We don't have to win. We just have to make conquering us more trouble than it's worth."

Gerald shook his head. "Foolishness. We don't know how valuable they deem this country. If they believe it could be of real strategic value in winning one of those wars you mentioned, then killing the ones already here will just make them send stronger people to deal with us. Imagine if they send Ivan or Dunhouser or Jercash or any of a dozen others. Forget about causing trouble. We wouldn't even be able to run away."

Roman furrowed his brow. "If we do nothing, they'll destroy Atreya."

"All the more reason to leave the country."

The Queen had been watching quietly. "Please," she said. "I assure you that your assistance would not go unrewarded."

Gerald smirked. "You don't even know who we are, do you, Your Majesty?"

She merely eyed him stolidly.

"I'm a smuggler. The best one you'll ever meet." He pointed to Roman. "This idiot is a thief. Probably the best, also."

Helen folded her arms. "I believe such transgressions are inconsequential at this point."

"Indeed," said Gerald. "But I want you to understand that he and I are greedy bastards and that your offer does not fall on deaf ears. And that I am still not going to help you. If you're as intelligent as I think you are, Your Majesty, then you'll take this chance to flee the country, as well."

"You must not think me very intelligent at all, then."

Gerald frowned. "Still too young for the crown, I see."

"A thousand years would not be enough to make me agree with you," Helen said. "You are mistaken if you think Atreya is meant to protect me. I am meant to protect it."

The old man just snorted.

There was a pause, and Lynnette noticed Hector had joined them. Everyone seemed to be looking at him--or just above his head, perhaps. She couldn't tell what was happening, but after a moment, Gerald broke the silence.

"There are plenty of places for us to go," he said. "Any neutral territory will suffice. If necessary, we'll throw our support behind Sai-hee. At least she has enough sense to stay out of the others' messes."

Roman scowled. "You fucking coward."

"Don't let sentiment cloud your judgment, Roman. Atreya is already dead."

"So much the better, then," said Roman. "Dead things suit us just fine."

Gerald rolled his eyes. A few of his mechanics lingered behind him, no doubt waiting for a chance to speak to him, but when he saw them there, he flew into a spitting tirade until they fled. He moved to the rear wall and hit a row of buttons. The garage doors all began to close.

The old man took a deep breath. The shelf next to him reached all the way to ceiling, bearing boxes and tires and all manner of tools. He clutched its central pillar with both hands and pulled the whole thing a few paces to the right. A door in the floor was revealed.

Gerald lifted it open. "I'll offer you one small aid only. I suggest you take it." He descended out of view.

Roman and the Queen followed immediately. Lynnette and Hector exchanged glances before pursuing.

-+-+-+-+-

It was an underground garage. Bright white lights filled the chamber, and Hector could see grooves in the ceiling where mechanics topside could work beneath cars.

Gerald was already pulling tarps off of the various vehicles parked here.

"The green Porsche is mine," said Gerald, "but you can take any of the others. The keys are all by the stairs."

Roman approached a black pickup truck, eyeing the driver's side door before looking back at Gerald. "We're not going to flee with you."

"I didn't think you would. But you shouldn't stay here. They'll find you before long."

Helen stood by a blue convertible. "Will they? Did we not escape them well enough?"

"Probably not," said Roman. "Reapers are annoyingly good scouts. They probably still have a vague idea where we went, at least. And they can search areas very quickly."

In the driver's seat, Gerald started his Porsche. The far corner of the ceiling began opening, and it became abruptly apparent that the long ramp there led outside.

Gerald stuck his head out. "Roman. Everyone. Good luck to you."

Roman gave him the finger.

The old man drove away, his unintroduced reaper following.

'What now?' said Voreese. 'Our plan's been shot to hell.'

Roman took a heavy breath. "I hate to say it, but I think the old bastard was right. We shouldn't stay here."

Helen's brow lowered. "You would have me flee, as well?"

"Look, it's a bit pathetic, but without my glasses, I'm fighting with a disadvantage. You don't have any combat experience or training yet, and while I'm impressed with the sword girl's abilities, she's still just a normal person." Roman looked at Hector and Garovel. "What do you two think? The bulk of the fight would be in your hands."

With everyone looking at him again, Hector took a step back.

'It's too risky,' said Garovel. 'We should leave Sescoria and come up with a new plan.'

The Queen frowned. "If we concede the capital now, we may never be able to retake it. We do outnumber the enemy, and Hector seems capable of--"

Garovel cut her off. 'With respect, Your Majesty, this is not your decision. It's mine. Hector has helped you more than enough already.'

Hector looked at his friend. 'Garovel...'

'We won't abandon you, Your Majesty,' the reaper added. 'But we're not prepared to die for you, either.'

"I was not asking you to die for me," she said.

'Yes, you were,' said Garovel. 'Perhaps you didn't realize it, but you were.'

Annoyance flashed across the Queen's face, but then she closed her eyes a moment and nodded. "Very well." Her gaze passed over Hector. "You know your limits better than I do. I thank you, Hector, for protecting us, and I will ask no more of you. Except, perhaps, might you tell me your full name?"

Hector was a statue. His mouth wouldn't move, and neither would his hands or his feet. 'G-Garovel! I--this is--! Help!'

Garovel broke for a small laugh. 'His name is Hector Goffe.'

"Goffe. I shall remember. But can he not speak for himself?"

'He wants to talk to you, but he's extremely shy.'

Her expression flattened, and she exchanged glances with the others. "You are joking."

'I'm not, no. He's a great kid. He just has trouble talking to people. And seeing as you're the Queen, I imagine that only makes it about a dozen times more difficult for him. Through no fault of your own, of course.'

Hector could feel his face burning so much that he was worried it would show through his helm.

Helen just blinked, unable to come up with words of her own.

Voreese busted out laughing. 'That's great! Roman, why can't you be like him? You'd be way cuter.'

"Great idea. Hey, Garovel, is there any way I can swap with Hector? I'd rather be your servant."

'No, you stupid dick! You're stuck with me!'

'She's right. And besides, I'm quite content with Hector.'

Roman looked at Mehlsanz. "How about you? I don't even know your name, but please save me from this living nightmare."

Helen and Lynnette were busy observing the keys together.

"I have not driven a car in eighteen years."

"Then perhaps I should drive, Your Highness."

Hector waited for them to choose before looking at the board himself. There were two rows, each key hanging below the logo of the accompanying vehicle's manufacturer.

Garovel pointed at the logo of a smoking, ghostly wheel. 'Get that one. It's Revenant.'

'Revenant?' said Hector, grabbing the key nonetheless.

'Have you forgotten? Revenant makes motorcycles.'

'Oh!' He bit his lip. 'And... oh. I just realized... we left that bike behind, didn't we...?'

'We sure did. Whoops.'

The key belonged to a motorcycle tucked away at the back of the garage. It was a cruiser, just like the previous bike, though a bit smaller and bearing a steely blue gas tank. It seemed sleeker to Hector's eyes, perhaps even custom-built, and he noticed that the speedometer went higher than the other one.

Abruptly, the lights flickered, and everyone looked up. The center of the ceiling went black, and a hissing sound filled the silence. Stone and plaster melted away, dripping acid onto the Corvette below.

A darkened arm fell through the hole in the ceiling.

Hector immediately slammed his fists together, trying to coat the severed limb in iron. It exploded halfway through.

The fire lit up the chamber. But it did not spread. Hector squinted through the opening in his helm and saw the explosion being held at bay by apparently nothing. It just floated there in the middle of the room, a boiling bubble of flames and smoke.

Roman's arms gripped the space in front of him, trembling. The strain of it ate away at his flesh, bloodying his arms and face. "Need some help here, Hector!"

Hector breathed deep and refocused. He spread his arms out wide and brought them together again. Iron spots gathered around the bubble, expanding, clustering, and soon became a completely metal orb, as big as any car in the room. It dropped on the Corvette like a wrecking ball.

Roman let go, and the sphere jumped in place. Huge dents distorted its shape, and Hector and Roman both scrambled to keep it suppressed.

'You can't smother an explosion like that,' said Garovel. 'You'll have to try and redirect it.'

'How?!' asked Hector.

'A funnel. Broadside up. Do it now.'

He wasn't sure he could actually pull such a thing off, but there was no time to second guess himself. He did the best he could, twisting his hands between one another as his mind warped the metal sphere, adding crude walls around the top like a misshapen crown. It grew clumsily toward the ceiling, worrying him with its awkward form. But it reached. And that was all that mattered.

Hector annihilated the top of the sphere within the walls and nodded to Roman, who already seemed to understand the goal here.

The explosion was free to rip upward, back the through the hole Desmond had dropped it from.

Hector annihilated the rest of the makeshift funnel, releasing a cloud of smoke and dust.

'Wow, Roman,' said Garovel. 'I didn't realize you could suppress explosions like that.'

Roman rolled his shoulders. "Honestly, I wasn't too certain, either. Nice work with the--"

A second arm dropped through the hole, but Roman was ready this time. He stamped the floor, and the Corvette flew straight up through the ceiling, taking the arm with it. The explosion shook the building, making the walls crack and shift.

Roman grinned like a maniac. "Time to go, everyone."

Hector mounted the bike, and everyone else gathered in the black truck with Lynnette at the wheel. She went first up the ramp and disappeared outside, and when Hector rode up the ramp himself and saw the truck again, it was flipped and skidding across the road.

The big man was there. As was Geoffrey.

#  ~Ch. 20~

# 'Thine unyielding aegis...'

He didn't need time to process or question it. Hector barreled into Geoffrey with complete resolve.

Red tendrils sprung forth, wrapping around the motorcycle and Hector both, slowing them down, and as the force of the impact pushed Geoffrey back, the two young men came face to face.

Geoffrey's eyes widened, and he grinned as their tangled mess eased to a stop, the bike's front tire still grinding harmlessly against his red shield. "It's you!"

"It's me." Hector ripped himself free of the shadow and grabbed Geoffrey's face. Crimson immediately came between them, but Hector just covered the young man's head with iron.

Geoffrey fell to the ground, scratching at his solid mask. Red poked through the metal, trying to break it apart but only meagerly succeeding.

Hector gathered his focus and punched Geoffrey in the chest. He broke through the shadow and felt a rib snap. Geoffrey cried out in pain.

The sound of pounding footsteps made Hector turn just in time to see a massive fist pummel into him. He flew and hit the overturned truck, rocking it as the others were still trying to get out. Garovel was there beside him and grabbed his shoulder. Hector felt his creeping fatigue vanish completely.

The big guy helped Geoffrey up and tore the metal off like it was wrapping paper.

Hector stood and saw Roman rounding the vehicle.

"Mr. Roman!" said Geoffrey, holding his chest but still smiling. "A pleasure to see you again!"

Roman squinted. "Voreese, is that who I think it is? I can't see the face very well."

'Yeah, it is,' said Voreese. 'What the fuck are you doing here, you red brat?!'

"I am here to kill the Queen."

Voreese thrashed at the air. 'Agh! I fucking hate aberrations! But no! Leave it alive, he said! Fuck Vincent! We're never listening to that asshole again!'

"Works for me." Roman looked at his palms. They began to tremble and burn.

'What are aberrations?' said Garovel.

And Hector couldn't listen to the other reaper's response. The big man charged at them, spitting acid first. Roman flipped the pavement up as a shield, and when the acid ate through it, he poured fire into the hole, roasting the giant alive. It wasn't enough to stop the man, however, so Hector took his cue to uppercut him in the jaw with an iron fist. The giant tumbled through the air and crashed down onto a parked car.

Geoffrey, however, was no longer in sight.

'He went around!' said Garovel.

There came an agonized scream from the other side of the truck, and Hector knew that it belonged to Lynn. He ran.

A swarm of crimson engulfed both women, holding them in the air. It was a larger shadow than Hector had yet seen from Geoffrey, but he dove into the mass head on regardless. The red coiled around his limbs, slowing him down but not stopping him. Then it started digging into his flesh and lifting him off the ground, taking away all his leverage.

Geoffrey turned away from Lynn to look at Hector. "Why did you bring this normal girl here?" he said. "Is she a friend of yours?" He held up an eyeball, freshly removed. "Please tell me she is."

Blood and shadow obscured Lynn's face. Geoffrey had covered her mouth to muffle her cries, and a meaty gash occupied the place where her right eye should have been.

The Queen acted before Hector could, however. Speared through the gut, she had pulled herself down along the shadow while Geoffrey's attention was held on Hector. She smashed him over the head with her fist. He hit the ground flat, and the entire mass of crimson shuddered and released everyone--but it did not altogether disappear.

Geoffrey was quick to get up, and Hector was there to meet him. He swung for Geoffrey's chest again. The red mass wove around his arm and held it back, struggling.

"I should make her my friend, too," said Geoffrey. And the crimson began to expand again.

Hector used his other fist to clock him in the face. It wasn't focused and didn't break the shadow, but it sent Geoffrey flipping head over foot across the road and into the side of a building.

"Lynn?!" Hector rushed over to her.

She held a hand over her eye socket, cringing. "I'm okay," she growled through gritted teeth.

"Please stay close," said Hector.

She just groaned and nodded, dripping more blood on her uniform.

'Roll it back over!' said Mehlsanz.

Helen obliged, and the battered truck's tires met pavement again.

Roman came flying overhead with Hector's motorcycle on top of him. He hit the ground, and the bike popped his gut open like a balloon, spilling entrails all over the road.

The giant bounded over the truck as well and started stomping toward Roman, but then he spotted Mehlsanz and swatted at her. She ducked under his hand and phased into the ground. Gushing acid followed her, melting through the road.

Hector and Helen double-teamed him. He covered the man's face in iron and gave her the opening to land a punch with all her might. The big guy soared through a lamp post and all the way into Gerald's garage.

'Everyone in the truck now!' said Garovel. Mehlsanz appeared behind him, smoldering slightly but not complaining.

The Queen jumped into the driver's seat while Hector went to retrieve Roman and the bike.

Lynn climbed into the back. A massive, yellow-green boa reared up over the edge of the truck bed, hissing at her.

"You will be my friend!" came Geoffrey's distant shout.

The snake lunged for her, and she hacked its head off.

Geoffrey opened his mouth as if to say something but just ended up frowning instead.

Helen pulled up next to the boys. Roman could barely stand, so Hector helped him into the back with Lynn.

'I see Desmond!' Mehlsanz warned.

Hector climbed in himself, and Helen slammed on the gas. He looked back to keep his eyes on Desmond, but what he saw instead was a red streak, flying toward Garovel. It snagged the reaper and yanked him back.

Hector leapt from the vehicle as it sped away.

"Hector?!" Lynn yelled after him. "What are you doing?!"

Before he even hit the ground, he had Garovel covered in iron. Geoffrey's red blade dug in, but only just, and Hector ran toward them, trying to cover Geoffrey as well.

Metal and shadow competed. Red slashed through gray, both contracting and expanding on top of one another, wrestling for dominance over Geoffrey. The shadow won out just as Hector drew close and stopped his punch cold.

"So your name is Hector, is it?" Geoffrey cut into Hector's body at multiple points. "I didn't think we would meet again so soon."

Hector ripped the red spears out each time they pierced him. He coated his own legs and feet in metal to maintain his foothold and pushed through.

But it was simple for Geoffrey to keep his distance. The shadow couldn't stop Hector, but it slowed him down enough that Geoffrey could just back away.

And then Desmond was there. "Allow me." He left an arm clutching the iron that protected Garovel. He pulled Geoffrey away as it darkened.

Hector tore through the remaining crimson and grabbed the arm. There wasn't time to throw it.

-+-+-+-+-

Geoffrey watched the explosion leave a crater in the street. He used his shadow to fan the cloud of dust away. Body parts littered the lawns on either side of the road, but Hector's metal head remained in the crater. "Aww, are they dead?"

"Don't think so," Desmond said as they approached. "Yeah, see? The reaper's barely alive, still. Kid got in the way."

The sound of a vehicle drew their attention, and they saw the truck returning in reverse. Roman and Lynnette stood together. She glared at them with her one eye.

"They're actually coming back for him?" said Geoffrey.

Desmond dug into his chest. "I'll handle--"

A sword flew into his face.

Geoffrey watched Desmond fall over, dead again. "Wow. No wonder Hector wears a helmet."

The truck screeched to a halt. Geoffrey lashed out with red.

Roman took the cuts and stopped the streaks that went for Lynnette. He gripped two tendrils, one in each hand, and made them tremble. They burst apart, and their remains shrank back to Geoffrey. Roman jumped out of the truck, smashing the pavement with both feet.

The ground flung Geoffrey up. He tumbled through the air.

The big man caught him. He set Geoffrey down and ran for the truck, spitting as it started to drive off. The acid would have reached the girl if Roman hadn't shielded her with his back.

And then they were gone.

Geoffrey walked over to the big man and patted him on the shoulder. "Good effort, Mr. Giant."

He returned a pat of his own on Geoffrey's head.

"What a disappointing day this turned out to be. Lost my balloon-hat. Lost my snake. And I didn't even get to kill the Queen. That advisor-guy will be upset, if we ever see him again. I wanted to feed him to the snake after he paid me, but I suppose that won't be happening, either."

The big guy just kept patting him on the head, and Geoffrey began to feel like some sort of dog.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

The giant looked at him vacantly.

"How about a name, then? Do you have one?"

The man's reaper arrived, descending from the sky along with Ezmortig. 'His name is Moss,' the reaper said. 'And mine is Ozmere. Moss can't speak. And even if he could, he wouldn't have much to say. He's a rather simple fellow, but he's good at following instruction, and that's what matters.'

They waited, and soon, Desmond revived. They started the walk back to Belgrant Castle together.

"Is it really okay to not chase after them?" said Geoffrey.

'We could,' said Ozmere, 'but Ezmortig and I would have to keep track of them over very long distances while you all catch up. And that could be dangerous for us.'

Ezmortig nodded. 'If we really needed the Queen dead at all costs, then it might be worth the risk, but we don't. As long as she stays hidden, she won't be able to hinder us politically.'

"And if she's stupid enough to try something, then we'll go hunt her down," said Desmond. "We might wanna put in a request for reinforcements, though. Bit of insurance wouldn't hurt."

'True,' said Ezmortig. 'We did encounter more resistance than expected.'

Desmond rolled his neck, stretching it. "Anyway, Geoffrey, are you alright? You don't regenerate like we do, and that kid got you pretty good."

Geoffrey rubbed his chest. "Pain is an interesting feeling. I don't completely dislike it, though it is a bit distracting, I suppose."

"That's not what I meant. Aberrations never seem to mind pain very much. But that doesn't make you immune to injury. If your body starts becoming sluggish, you should find yourself a new one."

Geoffrey tilted his head. "A new body?"

"Oh, can you not do that yet? Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out soon."

"Really? Do all aberrations have abilities like mine?"

Desmond deferred to Ezmortig.

'Your shadow powers, yes. Your ability to control things, no. Aberrations have varying kinds of secondary abilities. We call yours Domination. Unfortunately, it's not terribly useful against servants. At least, not until you develop it to dizzying degrees.'

"What other kinds of abilities can we have?"

'They always revolve around the consumption of souls. And they can be quite strange. I know of one aberration who can create black fire. And one who can turn people into glass. Oh, and the most famous example is probably the one who could create localized singularities. He's dead now, though. I think Sermung had to take him down personally.'

"Hmm. I see."

"So now you understand why we value aberrations so much," said Desmond. "Apart from just being so incredibly fun to work with, I mean."

Geoffrey laughed.

"What do you want to do now? We have a mission to attend to, but if you come with us, we can introduce you to some fun people. They'll help you grow your powers more quickly and safely than you can on your own. And they'll definitely keep you entertained."

"That sounds amazing!" Geoffrey's grin lessened, however. "But there is something else I want to take care of first."

"Oh?"

"Perhaps you can help me. How good is Abolish's information network?"

"You won't find better. Why?"

"I would very much like to find someone. A man named Colt."

"Tell me more."

#  ~Ch. 21~

# 'Alliance of calamity, capitulate not...'

Roman had been pleasantly surprised to discover a first aid kit in Gerald's truck. Dressing wounds wasn't his forte, but Voreese and Mehlsanz were able to provide apt instruction. And when he finished, he thought Lynnette's cotton-white bandage looked quite skillfully applied.

For the first hour or so of driving, Lynnette's questions were unrelenting, but given all she'd been through, he wasn't about to spare her any explanations. And after she seemed to have wrapped her head around imaginary beings and undying people, she started asking why Hector was not regenerating like before.

"Because his reaper is severely wounded," Roman explained. "He won't start regenerating again until Garovel recovers."

Lynnette eyed the half-destroyed helm containing what remained of Hector's head. She couldn't see Garovel's unconscious, shriveled form clinging to the back of it, but Roman could.

To his eyes, reapers looked like ethereal birds. Crows, precisely--but at the moment, Garovel was no more than a dark smudge. He would have to take Voreese's word for it that reapers could still recover from such a state.

Mehlsanz and Voreese had both been actively scouting to ensure they were not being followed, which meant flying up extremely high for visibility. They didn't report anything, and after a while, Roman finally began to relax.

'That fight should have gone smoother,' Voreese said privately. 'Maybe we've been avoiding conflicts for too long.'

Eyes closed, Roman rested his head against the window of the truck's cabin. 'You said you wanted to keep a low profile and build an empire.'

'I know. But this country is important to you. And apparently, we picked shitty allies. If I'd known you had something you wanted to protect, I would've pushed you harder to become stronger.'

He peeked at Voreese with one eye. 'I didn't think my feelings mattered to you that much.'

'Then you're an even bigger idiot than I thought.'

He smirked and closed his eyes again.

Soon, they reached the city of Walton. His hometown was a welcome sight, even if it was blurry without his glasses. Voreese gave the Queen directions to Roman's midtown mansion. They exited the vehicle in the underground parking complex and took the elevator up.

"Why don't you two get some rest?" Roman said to the ladies. "Make yourselves at home, and we'll reconvene later to figure out our next move."

"I am ready to discuss it now," said Helen.

Roman looked at Lynnette.

She glanced at the Queen. "I think I'd like to rest, if you don't mind..."

"Of course. And thank you, Lynnette. Your help has been invaluable."

"I'll make a call," said Roman. "I know a good private doctor."

The elevator doors opened, and a petite blond woman was waiting for them. "Master Roman!" she said. "You look like hell! What happened?"

"Lots. We have guests, Gina. Treat them well."

Gina frowned. "Why didn't you call ahead? I would've had everything prepared already."

"Phone was destroyed. Please show Lynnette here to one of the bedrooms."

"Sir, are you--is that a head that you're carrying?"

"It belongs to an acquaintance. I'm keeping it safe for him. Now, please."

She stiffened, but nodded. "As you say. Please follow me."

"Oh, and bring me a new pair of glasses."

Gina immediately retrieved a pair from her vest pocket.

He took them. "Ah, finally!" He looked around, blinking happily before cocking an eyebrow at Gina. "Why did you have my glasses on you?"

"Because you are very needy, sir."

He shooed her away, and Lynnette followed. He showed Helen to the kitchen and began scrounging for food.

"I still do not know who you are," the Queen said. "Or why you decided to help me."

Roman tossed her a premade sandwich. "My name is Roman Fullister," he said, biting into his own. "As for why I helped you, eh... I suppose that'd be part national pride and part business."

"Business," she said. "You mean thievery?"

Voreese gave a snort. 'Roman is to thievery what you are to Atreya.'

Roman's brow lowered. "That'd make me the queen of thieves, Voreese."

'Oh, you know what I meant.'

"Please, just let me do the talking."

'No, fuck you! Roman only steals from the super wealthy! And nobody knows it, but he takes care of the poor, too! He's a great guy!'

Roman scratched his head. "I don't know about that. I do live pretty comfortably, as you can see."

'Psh! You're talking to the fucking Queen, Roman. She's not impressed by your shiny floors and fancy sinks. This place probably looks like a crack house to her.'

It was Helen's turn to furrow her brow.

Roman sighed and leaned against the refrigerator. "Point is, I have an organized operation here in Atreya. A number of highly-skilled people work under me. And while I might be able to take advantage of the chaos that Abolish's plans will bring, it would only hurt my business in the long run."

'And Roman grew up in Atreya, so he has a soft spot for it.'

"Yeah, I guess I do."

'He was an orphan, too.'

"Well, I don't see how that's relevant..."

'Lived on the streets for a long time, he did. It's a real rags-to-riches story.'

"Voreese, what the hell? They don't care about any of that."

'Well, they should! Our previous allies obviously didn't care, and look at what dicks they turned out to be!'

"We knew they were dicks when we aligned with them."

'Yeah, but we didn't know how much! They were mega-dicks!'

"You'll have to forgive Voreese," said Roman. "She tends to hold grudges. Not that I disagree with her on this one."

Mehlsanz floated behind Helen. 'What should our next move be? We've been run out of the capital. And it doesn't seem like we have the power to take Sescoria back.'

Voreese nodded. 'And we definitely don't have the power to keep Sescoria. Even if we killed the ones already there, more might show up like Gerald said.'

"Then we require more power," said Helen. "Where might we find it?"

A brief silence fell.

Roman's expression soured. "Can anyone think of something that isn't the Vanguard?"

Helen looked over everyone. "I am not sure I understand what this Vanguard group is. They protect people from Abolish, no?"

"They do, yeah. And if we go to them for help, they'll probably give it. But afterwards, they won't just send us on our merry way. They'll want our support, too."

"That only seems fair," said Helen.

"Maybe so," said Roman, "but you should understand, Your Majesty. You might very well lose control of Atreya to them."

"We will see about that."

'And besides, she's already lost it to Abolish,' said Voreese.

'There's another problem,' said Mehlsanz. 'I abandoned the Vanguard. I'm not sure how welcoming they'll be. They may try to kill us.'

'Oh. Delightful.'

"Then maybe we should go to Sai-hee for help," said Roman.

Voreese gave a winged shrug and tilted her bird's head. 'It's worth looking into, but I wouldn't hold my breath. I doubt Sai-hee will break her neutrality and attack Abolish just because we ask her to.'

'Getting in contact with her will not be easy.'

Helen folded her arms. "Why does Abolish want war, exactly? And what kind of war will they try to create?"

"If nothing else, their motives are always easy to understand. They want to cause as much destruction and death as possible. Whatever their plan is, it'll be designed to maximize those things."

'Their plan is obvious enough,' said Mehlsanz. 'They want Atreya to instigate war with another country in such a way that even more countries will be dragged into the fighting.'

'That's not an easy thing to do,' said Voreese. 'Most countries have learned their lessons about forming dangerously dependent alliances.'

'But that is what they will aim for,' said Mehlsanz. 'In their eyes, even if they fail to pull more combatants, they'll still have a war like they wanted. And they'll make it as bloody as possible.'

"I see," said Helen, and she ventured into the next room and turned on the television. It didn't take her long to find a channel where a reporter was standing confusedly in front of Belgrant Castle with police and firefighters in the background. "They will try to use this," she said. "My disappearance will soon be discovered, and they will rally for public support."

"You really think they'll be able to blame the attack on some other country?" Roman asked.

"I am not sure. Perhaps there is some video footage of the attack which will exonerate any accused parties."

'They'll wait and see what the media learns before making their move,' said Voreese.

"Even if they fail to garner public support," the Queen said, "they can simply go to war anyway, and such a ludicrous act could prompt an armed rebellion."

'And then it'd just be a civil war, instead,' said Mehlsanz. 'All roads lead to war in some way.'

"Unless we kill those assholes and get you back on the throne," said Roman.

Helen rubbed her forehead and sat down on the black couch. She closed her eyes. "My husband will undoubtedly try to oppose them..."

Mehlsanz floated closer. 'They won't kill him.'

Everyone looked at her, all sharing unconvinced expressions.

'They won't,' she insisted. 'With you gone, power falls to him. It's too suspicious if you vanish and he dies at the same time. They want public support, remember? To make their war as large as possible, they'll need him alive.'

The Queen sighed. "I hope you are right."

Roman and Voreese exchanged glances, and everyone was silent for a while, simply listening to the news reporter drone on about how little they knew at this time. Roman sat down and placed Hector's head on the small table next to him.

Voreese spoke first. 'We do have one thing in our favor, at least. They need time to organize their war. Which means we have time to stop them.'

"True enough," said Roman. "How long do you think we have?"

'Hard to say,' said Voreese. 'I can't imagine it taking more than six months, though. What do you think, Queenie?'

"Coordinating an initial assault would take less than a week," said Helen. "Preparations for a long war would require more time but not likely more than a month. However, if they truly intend to win the people over first, then yes, we do have more time. I would guess four months, if no other complications arise, which is also doubtful."

Roman adjusted his spectacles. "Well, in any case, we shouldn't dawdle here."

'Agreed,' said Voreese. 'We should leave Atreya as soon you're prepared.'

"And go where?" Helen asked.

'As far as I know, the nearest Vanguard forces are in Korgum. They do have their hands full with Dozer, though, so they might not want to spare us any soldiers.'

Mehlsanz hovered around Helen. 'Eh... I'd really prefer not to meet anyone in the Vanguard again.'

"Why did you desert them?" said Roman.

Mehlsanz paused briefly. 'My previous servant, she grew up in conflict. Even before I resurrected her, she had lived through two wars as a child soldier. It was all she had ever known. And then one day, we found out that her sister had become a servant for Abolish.'

Roman's expression darkened. "Let me guess. The sister was mentally ill."

'Yes. Her sister wasn't psychotic, but she didn't really understand the consequences of what she was doing. And her reaper took advantage of that. But of course, the Vanguard had to stop her. She was killing innocent people. And my girl--Valencia was her name--she was just torn to pieces by this knowledge. She wanted to protect her sister, but she couldn't. She didn't want to fight her, either, so the higher-ups moved us to a different battlefield. But it didn't make much difference, at that point. Valencia didn't want to fight at all anymore. She just wanted to go somewhere and live peacefully.'

'Fucking Abolish motherfuckers...'

Mehlsanz nodded. 'I wouldn't normally agree to such a request, but after all Valencia had been through, I wanted to give her a chance at a quiet life. For a while, at least. I thought maybe she could find someone to fall in love with, and I'd let her grow old with that person, and then afterward, I'd release her and return to fighting Abolish with a new servant. And besides, I sort of wanted a break from the fighting, myself.'

"I'm guessing that didn't go over so well with your bosses."

'They refused. If she wouldn't fight, I had to release her, no exceptions. I protested, and then they imprisoned me and told me that if I didn't release her, they'd have to kill me. So I released her. And at the first opportunity, I fled.'

'And they didn't come after you?'

'I hid for a while, with decreasing levels of success. And now, Helen's status is the only thing protecting me. The Vanguard won't kill the ruler of a nation that's not under Abolish's control.'

"You've had it rough," said Roman.

Helen frowned. "I am sorry for all you have had to endure, Mehlsanz, but I must do whatever I can to protect Atreya--even if it means aligning with people you do not approve of."

'I know.'

Voreese tilted her ghostly, feathered head. 'The Vanguard didn't used to be like that. They've always been self-righteous pricks, but I've never known them to go that far. What changed?'

'I'm not sure, honestly. I first noticed their harsher rules a few years ago. I can't recall a particular incident.'

"I'd always heard the leader of the Vanguard is a pretty decent guy," said Roman. "Is that not the case anymore? Or maybe it never was?"

'I wouldn't know,' said Mehlsanz. 'I only met Sermung once, and that was fifty years ago.'

"Hmm." Roman looked over everyone and adjusted his glasses again. "Well, we don't have any idea where Sai-hee's people are, so I still think we should try the Vanguard in Korgum, first."

"I agree."

Mehlsanz ruffled her feathers but nodded. 'We must be very cautious.'

'What about Hector and Garovel?' said Voreese. 'They're gonna be out of commission for at least a week. Probably more.'

"We can't wait that long," said Roman. "I wanna be out of here within two days."

'You could just carry Hector's head with us,' said Voreese.

"Eh. I don't think we should take them out of the country without their permission. They might have a reason to stay in Atreya. How much do we even know about them?"

'Not much,' said Mehlsanz. 'I worked with Garovel some thirty years ago, and he seems more or less the same. Which is a good thing. But I know nothing about Hector.'

Helen looked at the helm. "We know that he protected us. That is not nothing."

"We also know that Garovel said they weren't prepared to die for you," said Roman. "And then they were both nearly killed."

Helen gave a slow nod.

"They can stay here. Gina will take care of them. And besides, I really don't wanna try to smuggle a severed head into a foreign country. I hear people frown upon that sort of thing."

"Very well."

"What about your sword girl? Should we take her?"

"I cannot send Lynnette back to Sescoria. Abolish will kill her."

"Oh yeah."

"If she wishes it, then I would have her accompany us."

"Alright." Roman stood and stretched his arms. "I already have plenty of spare identities for myself, so we'll only need two more."

'You have someone who can provide fake documentation?' Mehlsanz asked.

"Have someone?" said Roman. "Please. I do all my forgeries myself."

'Ah, of course.'

"That's why I said two days. I need time to work."

'Make me one, too!'

"Not this again. Voreese, I swear--"

'C'mon. Just the ID. You can skip all the other stuff.'

"No!"

'Tch.' She turned to Helen and Mehlsanz. 'He refuses to make me a fake ID, even as a joke. It wouldn't even be that much work for him. He's so lazy. Doesn't care about my happiness at all.'

"Y'know what? Fine. One day, when the entire country isn't in danger, I'll do that for you. Okay? Happy now?"

'Yes!'

"And for your photo, I'll use a picture of an actual bitch."

'Maybe you should change yours to a picture of an actual cock!'

#  ~Ch. 22~

# 'Quiet guardian, take respite...'

First, the chin regrew. Bone cracked into existence, followed by arteries and muscles, then tendons, cartilage, meager fat, and dark brown skin. His neck drew out, down to the shoulders, then the chest and arms. And soon enough, Hector's body was restored in full.

He did not wake immediately, however. He lay lifeless for several days more before his eyes finally opened again.

He sat up. He was in a bed, he saw, and a rather large one at that. The room held an air of wealth and comfort, but he didn't spare it much attention as he saw Garovel there next to him.

The image of the reaper was weak, almost transparent, like a cloth stretched thin enough that light shone through the weaves.

'There are clothes on the chair behind you.'

It wasn't exactly his typical wardrobe. The black jeans felt soft and expensive, but they were too broad, so he had to use the accompanying belt with its flashy silver buckle.

'Thank you for protecting me. I certainly would have died if you hadn't shielded me the way you did.'

"Y-you're, ah... you're welcome..." The silky white shirt fit him better, though the sleeves were a bit long, so he rolled them up to his wrists. "It couldn't have been enough, though. They saved us, I guess?"

'Seems that way. I'm not sure where they are. I've been in and out of consciousness.'

He wasn't sure if he wanted to wear the dark gray waistcoat as well, but after a moment, he opted to, and then started on the socks and shoes. "You don't look so great, by the way."

'I'm just tired.'

Abruptly, a blond woman entered the room. She jumped when she saw him. "Ah! Whoa! Okay, then! Hi there!"

"H-hello."

"You are Hector, yes?"

"Ye-yeah..."

"I'm Gina. It's a pleasure to meet you. I believe you met my employer, Master Roman."

"I, ah... yeah."

"Are you hungry?"

He nodded hesitantly.

"Please follow me, then."

He grabbed his battered helm, and she escorted him through a series of hallways.

'Ask her how long we've been here.'

He tried to speak but faltered, achieving no words at all.

'Oh, come on, Hector. She can't see me. You have to be the one to ask.'

"Um... h-how, ah..."

She stopped and turned. "Yes?"

He flinched at her sudden gaze. "H-how long have I, uh... I mean..."

She tilted her brow at him. "Um. You've been here for two weeks. Well, your head has, anyway."

'Ask where the others are.'

"W-where, uh..."

"You're in Walton. You came from Sescoria, right? It's east of there, if you didn't already know."

"Ah. But. Where are the others? Roman and..."

"Oh, they left the country."

'What?'

"W-why?"

"Ah." Gina reached into her vest and pulled out a small notepad. She handed it to him. "Master Roman left this for you. I believe it will answer your questions."

He flipped through and noticed quite a few pages full of text. Gina led him to the kitchen and began whipping up a meal while he sat down to read.

The first few pages said that they believed Atreya would go to war in a matter of months and elaborated upon their decision to seek the Vanguard's help. Roman advised Hector not to follow, as they apparently didn't know where their travels might lead them.

The later pages were in different handwriting, more feminine, and it soon identified itself as Voreese's words through the Queen's pen. It offered details on aberrations.

'Ah,' said Garovel upon reading it from over Hector's shoulder. 'Voreese remembered my inquiry. She's more thoughtful than I would have expected. I'll have to thank her the next time we meet.'

'Aberrations grow stronger the more people they kill,' Hector summarized.

'I suppose that explains why Geoffrey seemed more powerful.'

Hector's mouth twisted as he scowled. 'He's been killing even more people... and he's not going to stop.'

'With everything that's happened, you may be the only person in Atreya who can kill Geoffrey right now.'

'I'm not so sure I can. It's been two weeks. He's probably even stronger now.'

'It doesn't really matter as long as Abolish is protecting him.'

'I need to train...'

'Let's go back to Brighton first. You've been gone too long, as it is.'

Gina placed a plate full of pancakes in front of him. Then came eggs, sausage, waffles, hash browns, toast, strawberries, cantaloupe, wheat cereal, and a single banana.

He watched her as if she were bringing him solid gold bars.

"Master Roman said you'd be hungry."

"You... are amazing..."

"I know."

He dove into his meal.

Gina sat down to eat with him. "So what's your deal, anyway?" she said, biting into a waffle.

"W-what do you mean?"

"Master Roman didn't seem to know much about you, but he still wanted me to treat you like an honored guest."

"Ah, uh... well... I don't know much about him, either."

"Hmm. Where are you from?"

He glanced past her at Garovel.

'You should tell her. Roman and the Queen may need a means of contacting us when they return to Atreya. Gina may be able to help us with that.'

"I live in Brighton," he said.

"Pretty far away. Why were you in Sescoria?"

"I just... wanted to help..."

She paused to tilt her head at him. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen..."

"And how long have you been undead?"

He blinked at the question.

'Tell her five months,' said Garovel.

"Uh, five months or so..."

"I see."

'Why'd you make me lie? It's only been a few weeks...'

'You're stronger than you should be. And it's better if people don't know.'

'I... uh--'

"Well, Master Roman said you're welcome to stay as long as you like."

"Ah, I should actually get going soon..."

"You have business in Brighton?"

"S-sorta, yeah..."

"What do you do there?"

"N-nothing special..."

She pursed her lips at him.

He poked a pancake with his fork and let it linger there. "But, ah... do you have a pen?"

She gave him one.

He scribbled his phone number onto a page of the notepad and ripped it out for her. "In case, uh, Mr. Roman wants my help..."

She took it and then wrote a phone number of her own. "Same goes for you, then."

He tried not to blush and failed.

They finished their meal, and Gina showed him to the garage beneath the house. She handed him a key.

"Master Roman said you're a motorcycle guy." She motioned to a red cruiser with black and white flames painted on it.

Hector looked at Gina. "Mr. Roman is just giving this to me?"

"Yep."

"Ah--wow..."

"There should be some gas money in your clothes, by the way."

He felt his waistcoat and found a small roll of bills in the inside pocket. "Th-thank you."

"Sure."

'I didn't realize that guy was so generous,' said Garovel. 'Hope he doesn't care about this bike too much.'

'Um. Third time's the charm?'

'Chyeah, right.'

'This one's not a Revenant.'

'I don't think the manufacturer was the problem, Hector.'

'I'll just blame you, then.'

'Delude yourself all you like.'

Gina opened the garage door for him.

He favored the riding helmet over his helm and mounted the bike. He kickstarted it, and the sound of the engine filled the chamber. Gina gave him a wave. He returned his own and rode out.

He stopped just short of the first intersection, before riding out into traffic, and blinked. 'I just realized something,' he said. 'I'm not in pain.'

'I restored your body long before waking you up,' said Garovel. 'I needed extra rest, so I used the opportunity to let your pain be relieved, too.'

He turned his hands over in front of his face. 'My body feels so light...' He smiled inside his helmet. 'This is fucking great! Oh, man! I forgot what this was even like!'

'Ha. You're welcome.'

He went to turn onto the road but stopped himself again. 'By the way, uh... where the hell do I go?'

Garovel gave him instructions, and he soon found the highway leading south.

Mountains lay across the horizon, the very same ones he passed on the way to Sescoria. At this distance, however, he could see the occasional snow-capped peak.

'Let's go around those,' said Garovel. 'I'd rather not see you ride off a cliff.' A beat passed. 'Okay, yes, I would like to see that, but it'd still be really inconvenient.'

Hector roared down the highway. Traffic was a bit heavier than before but still nowhere near as uncomfortable as the city. After a while, he remembered another question.

'Desmond's ability,' said Hector. 'Didn't you say you'd explain?'

'Ah, yes. Desmond's ability falls under the category of transfiguration. I think the big guy's did, too.'

'Which means...?'

'Transfiguration abilities allow the user to replace body parts with a particular element. In Desmond's case, I would guess that element was sodium.'

'Sodium? That doesn't explode... does it?'

'When mixed with water, it does.'

'Oh. So he was using... hmm.'

'Technically, it's not the sodium itself that's responsible. Heat from the chemical reaction ignites the hydrogen that is expelled as a result.'

'I... okay.'

'Sodium and water can explode quite violently, but even so, Desmond's explosions seemed more powerful. I assume he was also employing a soul-strengthening technique to give them an extra punch.'

'Soul-strengthening... That sounds... useful.'

'It's basically just enhancing physical qualities through the application of mental force. It's something you can only do when your imaginary power grows stronger.'

'I'm guessing it's not as easy as that first step was.'

'It's not easy or hard, actually. And unlike your iron ability, it can't grow in sudden bursts through mental stress. Imaginary power is based upon the manipulation of your soul.'

'So, what? More meditation, then?'

'No. After the first step is taken, the only way to increase your imaginary power is time.'

'Wha?'

'See, I have control of your soul. In order for you to manipulate it, too, you and I have to spend more time together. Gradually, your soul and mine will become more synchronized.'

'You mean, like... through the power of friendship or some shit?'

Garovel laughed. 'No. Friendship doesn't really factor in, unfortunately. It's just a kind of natural osmosis that happens over time.'

'Huh. So... no training, then?'

'Nope. It'll just sorta happen on its own.'

'I guess that's one less thing to worry about, anyway.'

'Yeah.'

'But, um. What about Roman's ability? Do you know what that was?'

'I believe his was an alteration type ability. Transfiguration and materialization are similar in that they revolve around elements, but alteration abilities are different. Rather than creating something or replacing something, alteration merely applies some force in order to change the physical state of existing matter. A real force, that is. Not an imaginary one. And the force varies between users. Roman's force, I think, is particle vibrations.'

'That, uh... sounds... complicated.'

'Well, judging from how he was able to both create shockwaves and generate heat, it seems like the only explanation. And if I'm right, then that is an incredibly powerful ability.'

'Really?'

'Oh yeah. If he were stronger with it, he'd be fucking terrifying.'

'I guess it's a good thing he's not our enemy...'

'Indeed. Hmm. Hey, pull over for a bit.'

Hector slowed down and eased into the road's shoulder. 'What's the matter?' he asked as the bike stopped.

Garovel floated off to the right, and Hector watched him, squinting. 'There you are,' the reaper said softly. 'It's okay. I've got you now.'

'Who are you talking to?'

'A wandering soul,' said Garovel. 'Someone died out here.'

Hector blinked. 'What? Way out here? How?'

Garovel pointed behind him. 'Look back there.'

'Where? I don't--' And then he saw the skid marks on the road. Two sets. Intersecting.

'Happened a few days ago, judging by the state that this soul is in.'

Hector just frowned.

'Let's take a break at the next gas station. I need a couple hours to ferry this one across the void. You can use the time to meditate.'

'Okay...'

They proceeded on, and it wasn't long before a gas station came into view. Hector stopped, and Garovel disappeared into thin air after assuring Hector of his return.

He refueled and then wheeled the bike around the side of the building where no one else was. He sat down on the sidewalk and closed his eyes, letting the sound of cars on the highway bleed into background noise.

He focused on iron shapes. He wasn't sure what else to think about. Apart from merely coating things, nothing else came to mind, and he found himself wondering to what other degrees his power might develop. He shook the thoughts away and concentrated.

After a while, he opened his eyes again, and Garovel had still not returned, so he tried making iron. A silver lump materialized in his palm. It was almost spherical, surprisingly, but still smaller than he had imagined. He went back to meditating, and when he opened his eyes again, he saw Garovel there.

They set out again, and it wasn't long before a new topic arrived.

'There's something I'd like to know,' said Hector.

'Yeah?'

'Back when, um... when we first met... I know you said that you didn't know, but... do you believe that an afterlife exists? I mean, like, any kind at all?'

Garovel was slow to answer. 'No,' he said, 'I don't.'

'Why not?'

'I've never found anything that convinced me. Do you believe one does?'

'W-well, uh, not really, uh... I mean, I don't know. Aren't you kinda... experiencing an afterlife? You died, right? But you're still alive, sort of...'

'Ha. I suppose it depends on your definition of the afterlife, then. I certainly don't believe in heaven or hell. Reincarnation seems more appealing at least, but I don't see any reason to believe it's true.'

'So then... after we die, you think there's just... nothingness?'

'Yeah.'

'Then why, um... why do you bother reaping? If you think you're just carrying souls into oblivion, then... why not just leave them alone?'

'Because that would be a great cruelty.'

'What do you mean?'

'On its own, a soul will soon decay,' said Garovel. 'Within a day, it will become a confused mass of semi-consciousness. Within two, it will become a prison of raw agony.'

'Oh.'

'Ferrying souls is a task we take upon ourselves not because a higher power has ordained us to, but just because it's the right thing to do.'

'I see.'

'And besides, what the fuck else are we gonna do with our time? It's a good way to relieve boredom.'

'Wow, Garovel...'

'Hey, it's true.'

The sun drew up higher in the sky as Hector sped across the landscape. The journey was quiet for a while longer until Garovel initiated the next topic.

'I'm sorry this trip turned out so chaotic,' the reaper said. 'I certainly didn't mean for you to be gone so long. I'm not sure how we should explain your absence to your parents and your school.'

Hector hesitated. 'I'm... not so sure my parents will notice...'

'Oh, come on. It's been two weeks. How could they have not noticed?'

For a while, he merely listened to the motorcycle and the wind roaring together. 'When I was younger, uh... my parents both struggled to find work. They'd often have to take jobs in separate cities--I guess because the bills were piling up or something. They were always trying to readjust things so that they could both get a job in the same place. So, ah... we ended up moving around a lot. And there was this one time... when I was about ten... and, um... ah... b-basically, they, uh... they left me behind.'

Silence drew out, and Garovel waited for Hector to continue.

'I spent, like, almost a month in foster care, I think... and then the police found me. My parents thought they'd lost me somewhere in the new city. They didn't, uh... they didn't realize I was missing until like a week after the move...'

'A week is rather specific,' said Garovel. 'How do you know it took them that long?'

'Well, on the way back, the cops were really happy. Um... they told me it was amazing, because I'd been missing for three weeks... and I knew it had been longer.'

Garovel was briefly quiet again. 'Well, shit, Hector. I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was that bad.'

'I... it's not, I mean... if I'd been able to explain to the foster care people, then maybe... but I... I just--'

'No. Stop that. It's definitely not your fault. What I want to know is how Child Services never took you away from your parents.'

'Ch-Child Services? I, uh... I don't, ah...'

'Bah. How did they not realize it was a case of neglect? Was the incident reported as a child abduction? Or maybe they just thought you ran away?'

'I don't know about any of that, um... I mean, n-neglect? R-really, it's not like... uh...'

'Hector. It's one thing for your parents to be a bit distant from you or not really take an interest in your life as a teenager. It's sure-as-fuck something else for them to forget about their ten-year-old son in another city.'

The bike started drifting toward the shoulder, and he had to correct its path. 'It-it's fine, though. I mean, I've never thought of it like that, so...'

'Of course you haven't. It's how you've grown up. But that doesn't make it okay.'

Hector had no response.

## \---Third Oath---

## Family and Honor

#  ~Ch. 23~

# 'Thy beloved kinship...'

The remainder of the journey was quiet. Garovel took the chance to rest, with the advisement that Hector should wake him should he get lost, but it was a straight shot the rest of the way, so Hector wasn't too concerned.

Rather, he was more worried about Garovel's obvious disdain for his parents. Even as he saw Brighton's towers appearing over the horizon, it was still bothering him.

Hector couldn't make the thoughts explicit, for fear of waking up Garovel, but the ideas still brewed quietly in his mind, never forming conscious words but still unsettling him nonetheless.

He didn't want to think ill of his parents. They'd taken care of him his entire life. They'd kept a roof over his head, clothes on his back, food in his stomach. They'd given him toys and games and books, his own television, his own computer. Maybe that wasn't much to some people, but he knew that to others, that was a lot.

And they had never been abusive, which was more than could be said of other people's parents. He'd seen kids with parents like that. Those were the kids who had it rough, not him, and they endured their pain much better than he did. Surely, they'd love to have parents like his.

He rode the bike to a cemetery and parked it behind a mausoleum, under the shade of a line of trees. He checked inside the building, its stony walls encasing two chambers across, and was a bit surprised to still find the money that he had stolen from Rofal. He fully expected someone to have taken it after two whole weeks, but he supposed this place was an even better hiding spot than he thought. It was dark and peaceful inside, but Garovel had previously given him grief for choosing it, as if he had been trying to make some morbid joke, even though, really, it was a very convenient location.

From here, he made the short walk back to Cedar Street. Seeing his house again, under the amber pull of the evening sun, brought a sense of relief. If nothing else, he was at least glad to have finally made it.

He entered and found his father sitting alone in the den, watching television.

His father looked at him. The man did not get up. "Hey, son," he said, utterly flat and casual. "Haven't seen you around the past couple days."

Hector waited a moment longer, wondering if there was more, but his father had finished talking. He was suddenly glad that Garovel wasn't awake to hear. "...I found a job."

"Oh. That's good."

Hector tried not to frown. The temptation to let the conversation die was strong, and perhaps it was even the wisest course of action, but that previous worry was still there like an itch. "...Where's mom?" he tried.

"Sleeping. She had a long day at work."

"D-did something happen?"

"Just the usual, I'm sure. Clients being prima donnas and so forth."

Hector's expression strained as he struggled for another topic. It felt almost physically painful, as if his body wanted to leave but his brain wouldn't allow it. "D-do you wanna... um... do something together sometime? The three of us, I mean."

"Like what?"

"I don't know... maybe we could... go see a movie?"

He spared Hector an odd glance. "Wouldn't you rather go with your friends?"

"N-no..."

"Really? I know when I was your age, I didn't want anything to do with my parents."

Hector had no clue how to respond to that. His father's wry smile did nothing to comfort him.

The man shrugged and looked back at the television. "I'll see what your mother thinks about it."

"Okay..." And with that, the conversation seemed well and truly beyond revival. He gave up and went to his room.

He lay on his bed for a bit before deciding to practice creating iron again. Soon, he felt Garovel stir.

'Ah,' the reaper said, detaching himself from Hector. 'We're already here.'

"Yeah. You look a little better."

'I feel a little better. And you're already training, I see.'

"Yeah... so, uh... we're back in Brighton, but... what the hell do we do now?"

'Well. Roman's note said we have a few months before Atreya goes to war. So. I think the only logical thing to do is to focus on increasing your ability with iron until our allies return to retake Sescoria.'

"We just leave Abolish and Geoffrey to run wild? They're going to be slaughtering people..."

'What's the alternative? Rush in to stop them on our own? We'll die, and then there really won't be anyone to protect the civilians here.'

"I guess so..."

'But in a way, you're correct. We can't just sit here and have you try to meditate your way to victory. That's not going to work. Meditation is okay for steady growth, but it's not fast enough. To stand a chance, we need to press you harder.'

"And how do we do that?"

'Simple,' said Garovel. 'We go looking for trouble.'

-+-+-+-+-

Geoffrey's return to the Rofal mansion had been a decidedly quiet one. Desmond had wanted him to stay in Sescoria, but Geoffrey thought he should be in Brighton in order to continue the family business. To his great disappointment, however, no one was here to meet him. For the past few days, he'd had the entire house to himself.

So he fixed that.

Dozens of living puppets wandered the corridors. He made a game of it, controlling them all from his office, seeing through their eyes, rifling through their minds, and putting on a veritable play by having them interact with each other in various ways--sometimes peaceably, most times not.

It amused him while he waited for the phone to ring, but then there came a delightful surprise when one of his puppets saw someone venture through the front entrance, someone not under his control.

The stranger was an elderly gent, shriveled and gray but wearing bright eyes and a big smile. And he had a reaper with him.

Geoffrey immediately forgot about his human toys and went to greet them.

"Hello and welcome!" Geoffrey said cheerily. "Might I ask what brings you here?"

The old man looked at him eagerly. "Boo!" he said, shaking both hands in front of him.

Geoffrey just blinked. And then realized that he couldn't move his body. He struggled, but an invisible force held him fast.

The old man laughed. "Just kidding!" He released him, and Geoffrey stumbled back a step.

'Sorry,' the reaper said. 'He's just excited to meet you. You are Geoffrey Rofal, yes?'

"Yes. Who are you?"

'I am Feromas, and this is Damian Rofal. He is your grandfather.'

Geoffrey blinked again. Then a few more times.

"Howdy, Grandson! How's the business?! Not so great, by the looks of things! Aha! Did you kill all your subordinates?! That's not a very smart thing to do, you little scamp!"

"You are truly my grandfather?"

"Of course!"

'I hope you'll forgive us for not attending Joseph's funeral. The family doesn't usually tell Damian things anymore. They think he doesn't know what they're saying.'

"They think I'm a lunatic! Aha!"

'Which is only half-right.'

"Shut your hole, Feromas! I'm sharp as a tack, I am!"

The reaper eyed Geoffrey. 'We figured you'd need some help running things. The family doesn't have any other willing participants who aren't also scared shitless of you, and Damian's been restless lately, anyway.'

"I'm like a caterpillar!"

'Oh, he's gone again. Don't mind anything he says for the next twenty minutes or so.'

"Would you like to see a magic trick, young man?! Bring me ten rabbits, ten hats, and one machete!"

Geoffrey smiled. "I like your style, Grandpa."

Damian returned a quizzical expression. "I like your style, too, Grandma. Your eyebrows are pointier than I remember."

'Seriously. Don't mind him. Please.'

Damian looked at Feromas. "So who do you want me to kill?"

'No one, right now, Damian. Please just relax.'

"Okay, Boss. You're the boss, Boss." And he stood next to the reaper, rigid as a wooden plank.

"You want him to run the family business?" said Geoffrey. "Is he capable of such a thing?"

'...Please don't ask me such difficult questions. Do you want our help or not?'

Geoffrey scrunched his mouth together, thinking a moment, and then shrugged. "Sure, okay. Everyone else already ran away, though, so I'm not sure what you plan on doing."

Feromas stared at him for a long moment, then just gave a massive sigh.

"It's okay!" said Damian. "I know all sorts of great people!"

"Is he lucid again?"

'Not sure...'

"Like the Tooth Fairy!"

'Ah, there it is.'

"We'll build a tooth-fortress! No one'll be able to get in! Unless we want them to, of course. We'll need a tooth-drawbridge. And maybe some tooth-horses."

Geoffrey cocked an eyebrow. "How often does he get like this, exactly?"

'Once or twice a day, perhaps. It varies.'

Abruptly, Geoffrey heard the phone ring. He rushed back to his office to pick it up. "Yes, hello? Desmond?"

<"Heya, Geoffrey. Got some info you might like. In a little town out west, we got a report of a man going around with two babies.">

"Excellent!"

<"Town's called Battonburg. Info's a bit old, so he's probably not there anymore, but you might be able to get a lead on him if you pay the place a visit.">

"Thank you, Desmond! I will do just that."

<"Have fun out there. And give me a call if you need anymore help, yeah?">

"Of course. You are too kind." He hung up and looked at Feromas and Damian. "Okay. I have to go. Um. Enjoy building your tooth-fortress or whatever."

"Will do!"

'Hey, hold on a minute,' said Feromas. 'Don't you have questions for us?'

Geoffrey paused. "Mm, not particularly."

'But... aren't you curious about what I am? Or why you're so different from normal people?'

"I already know both of those things. You are a reaper, and I am an aberration."

Feromas furrowed his brow. 'How the hell do you know that, already?'

"I met some people from Abolish. And they--"

Damian snapped back. "Abolish is here in Atreya? Ah, were they behind the incident in Sescoria a couple weeks back?"

"Yeah. I was there with them. It was a lot of fun." Geoffrey tilted his head. "Though, I suppose I am curious as to why I am only meeting you just now. If you knew I was an aberration all this time, then why did you not tell me when I was younger?"

Feromas nodded. 'That's because of this asshole. He created you without me knowing and then completely forgot about you. It wasn't until your aunt visited him a couple days ago to inform him of Joseph's death that your name came up.'

"And I suddenly remembered!" said Damian. "How is your mother, by the way? I haven't seen her in ages."

"Neither have I," said Geoffrey. "But wait a minute. You created me? How?"

"Oh, did your friends in Abolish not tell you?" said Damian. "It's a delightful process, see. First, you have to capture a reaper. And make sure they don't have a servant's soul attached to them, or it just complicates things. Then, you need a man and a woman, and they both need to possess the reapers' genetic trait. And then, after the woman becomes pregnant, you perform a soul-transfusion, carving out the emerging soul of the child and replacing it with the reaper's soul you captured earlier. If all goes well, the resulting soul will be reborn with a new mind and a new body, and you will be rewarded with a wonderful little aberration baby."

Geoffrey raised an eyebrow. "Reapers' genetic trait?"

'The trait that makes us live on after death,' said Feromas.

"Yes, it's a recessive gene and terribly rare these days," said Damian. "Luckily, I'm a carrier myself, as are some of my children, including your mother. The real trick was getting her to have a child with someone who was also a carrier. She's rather headstrong, you know, and was determined to marry for love. I had to orchestrate events extensively so that she fell in love with just the right man."

'That's what you were doing? Why didn't you ever tell me? I thought you were just being a dick when you sabotaged her relationships.'

"I wanted to surprise you!" said Damian, grinning.

Feromas sighed again. 'Of course. For a second, you made me forget that you're a fucking idiot.'

"Huh," said Geoffrey. "So, if you had not performed this soul-transfusion on my mother, I would have been born as a normal human?"

"Seemingly, yes. But you wouldn't just be a carrier of the reaper trait like your parents. It would actually manifest in you. So when you died, you would have become a reaper like Feromas here."

"Oh!"

"Unfortunately, with two parents who are only carriers of the trait, the success rate is about twenty-five percent. If the child is merely a carrier as well, then the transfusion will simply kill the subject. You might have had a couple of older siblings, otherwise."

'No wonder she never comes to visit you.'

"Hmm," said Geoffrey. "I am not sure what to think. Is being a reaper more fun than being an aberration?"

'I doubt it. Boredom is a real problem for a lot of us.'

"Then I must thank you, Grandpa."

"No problem."

'By the way, I'm Damian's great grandfather. So you should thank me for your genetics, too.'

"I see! Thank you both, then!"

#  ~Ch. 24~

# 'Be not troubled...'

Hector's eyes drooped as he listened to his mathematics teacher talk about something he didn't understand in the slightest. Garovel was resting on his shoulders, so there was no one to stop Hector from drifting off.

It had been an eventful night. It was the first time they had patrolled the city without a specific purpose. And finding trouble at random was not as easy as Hector thought it would be. Garovel found a building fire, but by the time Hector reached it, firefighters already had it under control. They followed a police car around for a while, but it only led them to places where people had called in noise complaints or some such thing.

After a while, however, they switched tactics. Garovel haunted a series of seedy bars and strip clubs until he heard rumors of some river operation on the east side of town. And by the end of the night, Hector had trounced three dozen thugs, sunken a boat full of illegal weapons, and fled from the police. His motorcycle had earned a few bullets holes, which he patched with iron. There was no saving the paint job, though.

He'd argued with Garovel briefly about attending school. Hector thought it was a waste of time with everything else going on, but the reaper seemed adamant that he at least make an appearance, if for no other reason than to abate worry from people who hadn't seen him in two weeks. Hector agreed, but only on the condition that Garovel use the opportunity to rest.

So far, Hector had yet to see Micah or any of the others, but the day was still young. And as soon his first class let out, Sheryl came up to him.

"Hector!" said Sheryl, smiling. "How have you been?! We were starting to think you moved away or something!"

He averted his gaze as she cornered him against a wall and a line of lockers. "I, uh..." Garovel wasn't awake to help him. He froze up.

"Is everything okay? Am I making you uncomfortable again?"

He definitely did not want to answer that.

She frowned after a moment. "I'm sorry," she said. "I get it. Don't worry. I'll just leave you alone from now on." She started walking away.

"N-no," he said, gritting his teeth. "Please don't... um..."

She turned. "What?"

"You're not, uh... I mean... I don't want you to leave." He tried to look at her face, but her renewed smile was too much for him.

"So why haven't you been around school, then? Were you sick or something?"

That would be a serviceable lie, of course, but he decided to stick with one story. "I got a job. It's been, uh... very demanding."

"What sort of job requires you to miss school? Like a family business type of thing?"

"N-no, it's, um... well, it's difficult to explain."

"Oh yeah?" She looked at her watch. "Well, I do actually have to go. I've got tennis. Um. Tell me more about it at lunch, okay? I'm sure everyone else is curious, too."

"Ah--okay..."

And she was gone again, disappeared into the passing stream of students.

'Smooth,' said Garovel.

Hector's brow lowered. 'You're supposed to be asleep.'

'I was awoken by the sound of you lying yourself into a corner. What the hell are you going to tell them, exactly?'

'I have an idea... I think.'

'Is that so? Don't tell me, then. I want to be surprised.'

'Go back to sleep, already.'

'Fine. But wake me up at lunchtime.'

Hector smirked faintly. 'Okay, I will.'

He waited for lunch to arrive, barely staying awake for his next class and giving up entirely for the one after. None of the teachers mentioned his absence at all, but he supposed he should have expected that, given how overcrowded each class was. They surely had more important things to worry about than the whereabouts of a single student.

When lunch arrived, he found himself seated at the table with everyone, receiving their questions and intrigued faces. After all that had happened to him, he had to remind himself of their names. Nathan, Janine, Gregory, and then of course Sheryl and Micah.

"...I got a job in private security," Hector explained.

'Really? I was guessing you'd go with metalworking.'

"Security?" said Sheryl. "You mean like a bodyguard?"

"Kinda, yeah..."

"I didn't think people under eighteen could get work like that," said Micah.

'Oho. What now, genius?'

"It's... an unusual arrangement, um... just... It's difficult to explain."

'What a cop-out! Boooo!'

"What do you mean 'unusual'?" Gregory asked.

'Ha!'

Hector looked between everyone. "Um. Well, uh. This wealthy guy... he hired me. D-don't ask me why. I don't really know. But um. It's pretty rewarding work. I mean, I enjoy it."

'Wow, Hector.'

"There's just one problem," Hector added. "My boss. He's kind of a jackass."

'Oh, you dick.'

Micah's brow rose. "Has your boss been making you miss school? That's not legal, is it?"

"N-no, I've been choosing to miss school..."

"That's no good!" said Sheryl. "You shouldn't skip so much. What if you aren't able to graduate?"

Hector frowned. "Ah, uh... I-I think that ship may've already sailed, actually..."

Her eyes bulged. "What?! You're kidding!"

Hector flushed with shame and looked down at his food. It was some kind of meat-like blob covered in sauce, and the sight of it didn't do much to make him feel better.

"Do you need a tutor?" Micah asked.

"Yeah, do you need a tutor?" Sheryl echoed.

"Um, I, ah..."

'Uh-oh. Where is this going?'

"What do you need help with?" said Sheryl. "I'm pretty good with geography. Gregory's a math nerd."

"Hey, I'm not--"

"Yes, you are, shut up. Micah, you're good at something, aren't you?"

"Hell no."

"Yeah, you are! Biology! You're good at biology!"

"No, I'm not! I cheat, I swear I do!"

"Yeah, right, you goodie-good! Nathan, Janine, what are your best subjects?"

'Hector, what have you done?'

'I don't know, but I'm scared...'

"Hector!" said Sheryl, making him flinch. "C'mon! Give us your address, and we'll take turns tutoring you!"

-+-+-+-+-

Battonburg was a quiet little town. Buildings were architecturally ornate but never more than three stories. The small roads remained quiet, even in the middle of the day, and as Geoffrey looked for a place to park, he spotted a familiar reaper waving him down. He pulled into a diner and got out of his sleek, white sports car.

Ozmere floated over to him, with Moss lumbering not far behind. 'Hello again,' the reaper said.

"Hello. What are you doing here?"

'We wanted to make sure you didn't wipe out the entire town.'

Geoffrey pouted. "Aww, but that is the easiest way. I do not need to ask around about Colt if I just consume all their souls and read their minds."

'Geoffrey, please. That sort of thing will attract the attention of the Vanguard's aberration hunters. And trust me when I say that would not be fun for you.'

"Bah."

'Don't be like that. We'll make a game of it. We'll talk to various people and if someone seems like they know something useful, THEN you can eat their soul. Agreed?'

"Oh, very well."

'Good.'

"Is Desmond here, too?"

'No, he and Ezmortig are still in Sescoria. There is still much that needs overseeing. Our reinforcements arrived the other day, and Desmond's been trying to help everyone get situated without drawing too much attention.'

"How is your plan going, by the way?" Geoffrey asked.

'Well, Prince Gabriel has been cooperative, though he doesn't know the full extent of our plans, of course. The King, though, has been resistant. To his credit, he didn't concede any ground until Desmond ripped his arm off.'

"Ooh! Can I have the arm?!"

'Um. I'm not sure what we did with it. Sorry.'

"Aww."

'If you'd stayed, you could've torn it off yourself.'

"There is no need to rub it in."

'I'm pretty sure we'll have to kill the King sooner or later. You can still come back and be a part of that, you know.'

"Hmm. Let us find Mr. Colt quickly, then."

They visited the diner first but found no useful information. Geoffrey immediately wanted to kill the last person they talked to out of sheer disappointment, but Moss hoisted him over his shoulder and left the diner.

It would be some hours before they finally found a candidate. The elderly receptionist of a ratty motel paused to think a moment when Geoffrey asked about a man with two babies.

"Hmm." The man smirked. "Perhaps if I had something to refresh my memory..." He tapped the wooden counter in front of him.

"That will not be necessary." Geoffrey looked at Ozmere, who nodded. He grinned as the red shade poured forth.

The man's scream died in his mouth, and his eyes hollowed out into flaming shadows.

Geoffrey could see the memories. An entire life--dimensioned and complicated, sad and happy, regretful and grateful.

It bored him.

He searched for the face he wanted to see, as simple as if the memories had been his own. "Ah!" said Geoffrey. "Hello, Mr. Colt."

'Do you know where he went?'

"I know who to ask next."

'Lead on, then.'

-+-+-+-+-

Hector made it to the end of the school day. He was anxious about carpentry club, as he figured it to be the only other place where his absence might have been noticed.

To Hector's surprise, he was not hounded with questions from the other club members as soon as he entered the room. He received an occasional glance and nothing more, which stirred a mixture of emotion in him. On the one hand, he was all too glad to not be the center of attention again; but on the other, it reminded him of lonelier days, of that old feeling in his chest, as if his heart were being slowly squeezed.

'This shit again,' said Garovel, shaking Hector out of his morass. 'They were worried about you when they thought you'd been injured, but I guess that's worn off now.'

'It's fine. In fact, it's probably better this way.'

'Okay, Hector, it's time to tell me why the hell they're ignoring you like this. It's annoying me, and I want to know.'

'Ugh...'

Lance entered the clubroom, saw Hector, and immediately started walking over.

'Aw, dammit, c'mon!' Garovel pointed a bony finger at Hector. 'You're gonna tell me before we leave here today!'

'Okay, fine...'

"Hey, Hector," said Lance. "I was starting to think you'd quit the club again."

"No, I've... just been, ah, busy."

"Mm." Lance smiled. He put his backpack on the table and rummaged through it. "Have a look." He pulled out a pair of gauntlets.

Hector's eyes widened. The ornate lines along the interlocking finger parts were particularly impressive, he felt. The fingertips were all pointed, almost like claws, and he could see that Lance had used more than one type of metal to achieve the varying tones of gray. "Wow..."

"Told you I could do it."

"You sure did..." He went to pick one up, then confirmed Lance's nod before inspecting it more closely. "How'd you get the metal so smooth? You couldn't have just used a hammer."

"No, I used my uncle's furnace and molded all the big pieces from a melted state."

"That's really awesome..."

"Thanks. What about you? Did you ever finish your helm?"

A bit hesitant, Hector retrieved the helm from his bag and put it on the table.

"Whoa," said Lance. "This is really smooth, too. Cast iron, isn't it? You have access to a furnace, too?"

He wasn't sure how else to explain it, so he just said, "Y-yeah."

"Are you gonna add some ornamental lines to it?"

"Uh... m-maybe."

"What do you think about making a full suit of armor?" said Lance, and Hector blinked. "It'd be a pretty big project for just one person, but between the two of us, I think it'd be manageable. Maybe enter it into a competition or something."

"Uh... that, uh..."

"If you don't want to, that's fine. I was just thinking of making some greaves next and got to wondering."

"Ah, no... I mean, uh, sure. That sounds... pretty cool."

"Yeah? Awesome. I was thinking we'd make various parts independently and then piece them together later."

"Hmm." Hector scratched his forehead. "But, uh... well, that could be a problem if we don't, um... correlate our measurements or whatever."

"Ah, you're right. Maybe we should make the breastplate together, then. Once that is done, we can take proper measurements and then split up to make the smaller stuff like the gorget and pauldrons and such."

"Gorget is for the neck, right? What're pauldrons for?"

"Shoulders. There are lots of other parts to choose from, too. Vambraces for the forearms. Couters for the elbows. And tons of others. We could probably spend the rest of the school year making all the different things."

"I see." Hector eyed the gauntlets again as a quiet thought struck him.

"We can get started tomorrow, if you like. Just come over to my uncle's place after school. He's got lots of scrap metal we can melt down and use."

"Ah, o-okay..."

Lance gave Hector the address and then ventured off again.

Garovel floated over his shoulder. 'Looks like you're going to be a busy man from now on.'

'I, ah...'

'This is basically what you've always wanted, isn't it? Having friends to spend time with and so forth?'

Hector glanced at the reaper, then back down at the address. 'Y-yeah...' He couldn't help smiling. 'I just never thought it could actually happen...'

'Heh.'

Ms. Trent poked her head out of her office. "Hector," she called out. And he thought he was in trouble until she added, "Glad to see you're back."

He gave a blushing nod.

And then he was alone again. He looked across the other club members, wondering if any of them were going to approach him, but when none did, he decided that he had satisfactorily fulfilled Garovel's request to make an appearance. He started for the exit.

'Hector,' said Garovel. 'You said you'd tell me your history with these people.'

'Fine...' He took a breath as he entered the hall. 'Basically, ah... well, one thing you have to understand about the kids in the club is that, uh... they're very... well, they're very close-knit. They, um. I mean, I wouldn't call them a clique, exactly, but... they have some of those qualities, I guess.'

'Go on.'

'And, uh... there's this couple. Katrina and Jamal. They're sort of like the group's leaders. The alpha couple. And, um. One day, I, uh... I kinda... I mean, I... ah, man, this is... just...'

'Hector, c'mon. Spit it out.'

'I, uh... I saw them having sex in the clubroom.'

Garovel stared at him a moment. 'Uh. Huh.'

'Yeah... I mean, I just walked in on them and... yeah...'

'What did you do?'

'I ran away. Which... probably wasn't the right thing to do. They'd seen me. So... maybe I shoulda just talked to them, but... I... that... there was just no way...'

'I can imagine.' Hector proceeded outside through the front of the school. 'But, um... anyhow, to make a long story short, uh... I mean, I wasn't going to tell anyone about what I saw... but I kinda... ended up telling Ms. Trent.'

'Ah. Damn, Hector.'

'Yeah... I-I tried not to tell her, but... uh... Ms. Trent already had her suspicions, I guess... and... she sorta cornered me... and I just... I don't know. I couldn't lie about it. And I should have...' He shook his head. 'I really fucking should have...'

Garovel gave a sympathetic shrug. 'You just told the truth. Why does everyone in the club hold that against you?'

'Because... Katrina and Jamal were both expelled, and now they have to repeat a year.

'Oh. Yikes.'

'I hadn't, uh... I hadn't actually done anything wrong, so... they couldn't kick me out of the club, but...'

'They ignored you until you just left on your own.'

'Pretty much...'

'Is that when you decided to kill yourself?'

Hector sighed. 'When you put it like that... it sounds even more pathetic...'

'Sorry.'

'It's fine...'

'Well. They sound like the kind of friends you're better off without, anyway.'

He shook his head again. 'Garovel, no offense, but... you don't know what the fuck you're talking about.'

The reaper raised an eyebrow at him. 'What?'

'I'm sorry, but... that's the sort of thing that people only say when they already have friends that they're comfortable with. It's not the same when you're rejected and completely on your own... "Just find new friends," people say. "Friends who will treat you better." Yeah. Right. As if that's so fucking easy. I mean, that's the whole problem to begin with...'

'Hmm. I see your point.'

'And besides... isn't it still better to, y'know... try to accept your friends for who they are? Faults and all? I mean... it's not like I'm perfect, either...'

'You're surprisingly opinionated about this,' said Garovel.

'S-sorry.'

'No, it's fine. I understand. But those club people still seem like a bunch of dicks to me. And having sex in the clubroom was a stupid thing to do, anyway.'

'They're not dicks,' said Hector. 'They're just... very protective of each other. A lot of the kids in that club have pretty rough home lives. So they rely on each other a lot. And the two people I got expelled... from what I'd overheard, um... they were having sex at school because their families didn't want them seeing each other anywhere else.'

'You learned that much about them just from listening?'

'Y-yeah. I mean, I could kinda... infer some stuff, but yeah.'

'Hmm. Well. I'm sorry you weren't able to become friends with them. But if you had, then you and I probably wouldn't have met.'

Hector paused a moment. 'If only.'

'Fucking cheap shot.'

#  ~Ch. 25~

# 'A maelstrom doth brew...'

Between school, metalwork, getting tutored, meditation, and beating the tar out of criminals, the next few days were a juggling mess. School tended to take the worst of it, as Hector would show up in the mornings and then employ doctors' notes to skip out on the rest of his classes. After the events in Sescoria, he had nearly forgotten about the box of excuses that his mother had given him, but now he was quite thankful for it.

He was also relieved that the first tutoring session was with Gregory. Hector wasn't sure he could've handled it if Sheryl or Janine had shown up. Having someone else in his room was terrifying enough, but having that someone be a girl was an impossible notion to him--and realizing this after the first session, he arranged for the second to be at a burger shop instead.

Hector's time with Lance was decidedly less nerve-wracking, however. Working with metal somehow made things easier, perhaps because Hector felt it was more immediately useful. He couldn't simply take the armor that he worked on with Lance, of course, but there was something about the process of making it. Ideas arose almost involuntarily.

Even before getting started, he took inspiration from Lance's gauntlets. Replicating them from scratch was still beyond him, but he realized that he didn't have to do that. Instead, he ventured to a hardware store and purchased a pair of thin, well-fitting gloves. From there, he created an iron framework for them. Rather than making a simple coating, he began by materializing multiple rings around each finger. Then he filled in the gaps, excepting the joints, and suddenly, all of his fingers were covered with iron, yet he could still move them, just like real gauntlets. Nothing held the metal together, however, so the pieces slid right off when he put his hands to his sides.

And that was the trickiest part. He had to form tiny spikes in each piece, all with corresponding holes, so that they would interlock and stay in place.

Then, it was only a matter of covering the forearms and the backs of his hands with metal. The palms were left bare so that he could still make a proper fist, but at that point, he looked at his work and smiled. He had actual gauntlets. They might not have been as intricate as the ones Lance made, but they were probably more comfortable thanks to the gloves. And they were functional. Mostly. Coating the forearms in iron rendered him unable to remove his hands from the gloves.

He annihilated his work and started over. Garovel told him to use it as a form of practice, to concentrate and see how quickly he could correctly form all the individual pieces. And it was far more difficult when he pressed himself for speed. Interlocking all the pieces was of course the most agonizing part. Even after hours of practice, he was still taking upwards of fifteen minutes to form everything correctly.

The most valuable ideas, however, came from the actual work--seeing and experiencing the process of melting metal down and making casts for the armor. Apart from simply enjoying himself, Hector began to conceptualize the creation of his iron differently. He tried making it into a process as well. Rather than merely visualizing some iron shape in his mind, he instead visualized it being melted down from a powder and then reformed and cooled into the desired shape.

And to an extent, it actually worked. It took longer to form something, but when the iron appeared in his hand, it was a quite passable cube. He did it again with a sphere, then a pyramid, then a rectangular prism. Garovel made him try for an icosahedron, and after finding out what it looked like, Hector struggled for about half an hour before Garovel started laughing at him, at which point he gave up and flipped the reaper off.

Practical experience also seemed to help. Hector made a concentrated effort to take criminals down using mainly iron. If firearms were a factor, he made them into iron bricks first, and then went about binding the attackers' limbs. If a victim or witness was involved, then Hector escorted them to the nearest police station along with the subdued perpetrator.

Unfortunately, it did not always go smoothly. More than once, he accidentally broke a criminal's arm or leg, even when all they had done wrong was a bit of burglary. Garovel tried to only focus on murderers, but those were not nearly as easy to find, even with the reaper's ability to see deathly auras.

'Most murders are crimes of passion after all,' said Garovel. 'And in those cases, I won't see an aura of death around the victim until maybe a minute before they die.'

'That kinda sucks, Garovel...'

'Hey, it's the best I've got.'

They spent considerable time near the local police station. Garovel wanted to scour for information, and after a while, they learned of an apparent resurgence of activity in the Rofal family.

'I doubt they're talking about Geoffrey,' said Garovel. 'He doesn't seem like the very organized type.'

'Who do you think could've stepped in, then?'

'No idea. Perhaps we should follow up. I heard someone mention there being a suspected drug den a few kilometers from here.'

'Tell me where to go.'

Soon, Hector had another ten thousand troas in small bills. He considered dropping it off at a homeless shelter or some such place, but Garovel told him that stolen drug money would attract dangerous attention to whomever he gave it.

Part of him expected to see Geoffrey pop up out of nowhere again, but even after a few days of attacking various Rofal cash houses and business fronts, Hector never saw the aberration.

He did not enjoy wondering where Geoffrey was.

-+-+-+-+-

Jeremiah Colt looked over the wall of baby food another time. His cap and sunglasses hid his face pretty well, and his dark beard was finally starting to come in.

He'd already bought diapers, baby powder, and a fresh bottle for Stephanie. Some guy with a mohawk had smacked her old one out of Colt's hand when he asked about the nearest place to find milk. Perhaps the guy was just trying to impress his friends, but when Colt saw the bottle land in a pile of dog shit, he made the guy swallow his own teeth. The guy's friends weren't very forthcoming with information, either, but Colt eventually found the local grocery store on his own, anyway.

Baby food was perhaps the trickiest part. Stephanie seemed to like applesauce, but only certain brands, and Thomas' preference still seemed completely inconsistent. Compounded with varied pricing and purported nutritional value, Colt always ended up spending a good twenty minutes trying to decide.

Colt picked up a carton of milk last. He had been trying to wean the twins off baby formula and onto normal milk, as they were already thirteen months old. All the parenting message boards suggested mixing formula and milk together in order to ease the transition.

He made his way to check-out. The clerk commented on him wearing sunglasses indoors, and Colt ignored him. As he exited the building, a brisk afternoon wind caught him across the face, and he pulled up his coat's tall collar. He started walking to his motel.

The city of Delroy was not known for its impeccable weather, and the past few days had only furthered its reputation for gray, drizzling skies. Colt had come to this coastal town in hopes of finding someone who would sneak him out of the country via watercraft. So far, he had found no prospects.

Trying to get out of the country had been one problem after another. With the bounty on his head, keeping his identity a secret was almost impossible; whenever he brought out the two infants, all attempts at secrecy flew out the window. And at that point, the people whom he had approached would either refuse to help him or try to take the bounty for themselves.

And as if that wasn't bad enough, the recent chaos in the capital had only made border patrols even stricter. Colt was starting to wonder if he would have to just stow away on a freighter or some such thing. Certainly, if he had been by himself, he would have done that already.

He reached the edge of the alley that led into the motel's rear parking lot and stopped. He peeked out from behind the corner's black-and-red brick, checking the area. Caution had kept him alive these past three weeks, and he wasn't about to forget it.

Colt saw the idiots from earlier, gathered around his car and looking up at the motel.

"Hey," said Colt, a bag in each hand. "Get the fuck away from my car."

They all turned at once. Their expressions were utterly vacant and lifeless. "Aha," said the one on the right. "You look different, Mr. Colt."

This was, abruptly, much too familiar. Colt remembered these expressions from that night in the Rofal mansion, the faces of mindless puppets. And of the few people who knew his name, only two called him 'Mr. Colt.' The first was Geoffrey, and the second was Hector. And this was most definitely not Hector.

Colt scowled. "You look much more different than I do," he said.

An unnatural smile crossed the puppet's lips. "Just wait there for me," said Geoffrey. "We will have a proper reunion in a few minutes."

Colt slowly set his bags down on the wet pavement. There were three of them. Reaching his gun would require two swift motions--unzipping his coat and pulling the weapon out of its holster. This was why he didn't like underarm carrying, but these days, he couldn't very well keep it holstered at his hip for everyone to see.

He unzipped his coat, and they all lunged for him. He rolled to his right. The gun came free. The safety switched off.

One of them had Colt's leg. "Go ahead and try to run!" he said for Geoffrey. "It'll be more fun for me that way!"

Colt smashed his face in with the butt of his gun. The other two fell to a bullet each, one in the neck, one in the forehead.

He stood. There were buildings all around. No way to tell who--or what--had seen that just now. He threw the baby supplies in the back of his car and ran for the motel.

Colt bounded up the outdoor staircase and unlocked the door to his room. He barged in and grabbed his sleeping children. They both awoke and stared at him curiously as he wrapped them together in the same blanket and heaved them into his arms. Combined, the children were actually quite awkward and heavy, but Colt had ample strength for the task. He shifted most of their weight onto one arm in order to free up the other for his gun.

Everything else in the room was abandoned. He hurried back down to the parking lot.

The one puppet whom Colt had not killed was back up, his smashed-in face still just as vacant amidst all the blood.

At this distance, Colt wasn't confident that he could get a headshot with only one hand, so he shot him in the chest instead. And when the guy dropped, Colt walked up and blew his brains out.

Stephanie and Thomas both started crying.

"Sorry about the noise, kiddos." He fastened them into the backseats of the car before jumping behind the wheel and driving out of the parking lot.

He got on the highway. It didn't really matter where he went, as long as it led out of the city, so he chose west. After a minute, however, he had to slow down.

Traffic was deadlocked ahead. He could see a massive pileup of vehicles and an overturned 18-wheeler.

Colt growled. He doubted the coincidence. He backed up, cars honking at him as he pushed them out of his way. Then he drove over the median in the road and started back the other direction. He exited the highway, searching for a small street out of town. Before long, he had to stop again.

A line of three police vehicles blocked the road. Six uniformed officers exited their cars in perfect unison.

Colt switched to reverse and slammed his foot on the gas pedal. Gunfire pierced the windshield, making him duck his head and squint as he turned backwards onto a side street.

A car was coming from the other direction, and Colt swerved up onto the sidewalk. He hit the brakes and pulled the wheel hard to the right. The vehicle spun back onto the street as Colt shifted to neutral and hit the gas again. He could hear the kids crying their lungs out, but he was glad for it. He didn't have time to glance back at them, and silence would've been far more worrying.

He kept going straight for several blocks. He could see people on the street who seemed normal, at least insofar as not staring blankly at him as he passed, but he could also see flashing lights in his rear-view mirror. He turned right and soon saw more flashing lights bearing down on him, so he quickly turned left again.

They were building a net around him, he knew. Or maybe they already had one. There was no telling how many people Geoffrey had after him, but the bastard had obviously come prepared.

Colt decided it was time to change tactics. A clothing outlet came up on his right, and he turned into the parking lot. He stopped in front of the entrance, exited the car, and looked over the small crowd of people. He couldn't tell if they were possessed or just confused, so he raised his gun and shot the store's giant neon sign. When they shrieked and started fleeing, he figured they were normal enough.

His pursuers entered the parking lot as Colt popped the trunk of his car. A long, black case lay inside, and he lifted it open to pull out his emergency fallback--an assault rifle mounted with an under-barrel grenade launcher, already prepped for immediate use.

The first police car stopped in front of him, and he saw Geoffrey's minions stupidly pointing their weapons at him instead of exiting first. A grenade ripped through the cabin before they could fire.

The other officers pulled up next to the smoldering vehicle, and Colt mowed them down without hesitation, giving them no chance to retaliate. In a matter of seconds, the last two cars were both riddled with bullet holes.

He paused with a smoking gun barrel, waiting to see if the puppets were really dead. After a moment, he was satisfied.

Colt slung his rifle over his shoulder and grabbed his kids. He knew this victory wouldn't last. As long as Geoffrey was alive, the minions would keep coming; or worse, Geoffrey would show up himself. In fact, the latter seemed far more likely. No doubt, this was a game to Geoffrey--it always was. Geoffrey would want to kill him personally, but not without tormenting him first.

To Colt's mind, all options were bad. Fleeing, fighting, hiding--they all ended with him and the children dead. All except one, perhaps.

He entered the clothing store, ignoring the screaming people. He shed his cap and glasses and started searching for a new coat. And then he pulled out his cellphone.

#  ~Ch. 26~

# 'Thy desperado's heart...!'

Hector shambled into his room and collapsed onto his bed. It had been a long night, and the following morning had not been much better.

Garovel had found him a triple homicide in progress, and while Hector did manage to successfully prevent any deaths, the intended victims never realized they were in danger to begin with. So instead of being grateful, they thought Hector was some kind of blood-soaked monster, and thus, he had to spend a few extra hours evading and hiding from the police.

By the time he made it home, he had already missed the school bus. He intended to just skip, but one of his friends decided to pay him a morning visit. Apparently, Nathan lived quite close by and wanted to offer Hector a ride.

Hector thought about simply refusing Nathan's offer--Garovel even gave permission--but he couldn't bring himself to. He worried what his new group of friends thought of him, what with how he always made it difficult for them to help him with anything. So he went to school.

But before even his first class finished, Hector had to leave again. Garovel had found him a nice, heaping plate of early morning gang violence--and not even that far away from Calman High, either.

It was a group of ten or so guys, all pretty young, and masked with scarves and hoodies. They'd been raiding a rundown apartment complex, terrorizing the residents with knives and handguns. Without incurring injury, Hector bound them all in iron and stole their weapons. An elderly tenant offered him an apple pie. He quietly refused, of course.

Garovel was quick to find more people in distress. There had been a spike in violent crime over the past couple days. The police largely attributed it to the Rofals, but they also seemed keen to blame Hector, even if they couldn't determine how just yet.

And now, having not slept more than a total of four hours in the past three days, Hector finally lay in bed again. It was the middle of the day, but the nights tended to need him more, anyway.

Through the growing fog that was his fatigue, he could still feel faintly wondrous at the lack of pain throughout his body. It was a welcome change, to say the least, though he did not expect it to remain that way for very long.

Sleep was a warm cloud, unconscious bliss. And then a voice broke through.

'Hector, wake up. Your cellphone is beeping.'

His eyes slit open. "Cellphone...? Who would be--?" He sat up.

Hector rummaged through his bag until he found it--the burner phone Colt had given him. At Garovel's behest, he hadn't taken it with him to Sescoria. The reaper had posited that if Colt were to call while they were in the capital, then there would be nothing Hector could do about it; therefore, it was better to leave it here in Brighton, where it would not get destroyed if things went badly. Certainly, one of the reaper's more prophetic suggestions. Garovel had to remind him to recharge it as soon as he had returned home.

There was a single text message, received less than two minutes ago. Hector read it.

He immediately grabbed his bag and bolted out the door.

-+-+-+-+-

Another row of cars blocked the way, and Colt was forced to turn again. Nearly an hour had passed since the clothing store, and he had been drawn into a losing game of cat and mouse. Much as he tried to find a way around, the minions were slowly forcing him toward the port.

He knew their plan, but there wasn't much to be done about it. They obviously wanted to corner him against the water, where he would have nowhere left to run unless he intended to commandeer a boat; but if that were even an option, it would probably just be an even worse trap.

Colt just wanted to buy time for Hector. Delroy was nearly two hours away from Brighton. The kid had texted him back, but Colt hadn't found the opportunity to stop and read it, much less reply. His hands were busy trying to prevent a car crash as he weaved his way through the streets.

He could often see a silver-white car in the rear-view mirror, along with a big, red hand waving hello from out of the driver's side window. Colt would lose him, only to see the car reappear a few minutes later.

At length, he ran out of road. The Gulf of Emerson filled the horizon, and only a long shipyard lay between Colt and the turbulent waters.

Colt drove onto a footpath. Dock workers lined the water, hoisting crates and tanks up via pulley. They yelled at him as he passed, and he spared them a couple gunshots--not hitting them, just getting them to flee.

He looked for an area without people. He saw an empty cruise liner and decided to abandon his car in front of it. Hopping the rope and running up the stepped path, he found the entrance shut, so he riddled it with bullet holes and kicked it open.

"Mr. Colt!" came Geoffrey's not-so-distant voice. "Where are you running, Mr. Colt?! Isn't it about time we brought this little chase to an end?!"

Colt knew Geoffrey was right. He was out of options. Even if he could somehow steal the boat, it sounded like Geoffrey was already on board. Colt ran for the bow of the ship.

Rows of chairs and small tables surrounded a covered pool. Colt approached the edge of the ship and climbed up over the guard rail. The waters must've been a good ten meters below him, and the way they crashed against the hull certainly did not look inviting.

He gathered his courage and jumped.

And he stopped in midair. Pain exploded throughout his body. The red shadow had pierced his chest and leg, holding him in place.

"No, no," said Geoffrey, turning Colt around to face him. "Let's not turn this into a swimming competition, Mr. Colt. That would be so tedious."

The pain was worst in his chest. Colt could feel the shadow there, tearing through muscle and bone, coiling around his heart. He screamed, and the shadow wrapped around his mouth, too.

"Shh. Come on, Mr. Colt. I need you to listen. You can still hear me, can't you?"

He struggled, tasting blood in his mouth. The pain was maddening, but he was determined to keep his focus until the end. With his right hand, he could still feel his rifle.

"By the way--" The red shadow expanded out, much larger than Colt had ever seen, and shot back behind Geoffrey, disappearing over the side of the ship. After a moment, it returned. With Colt's car. "I believe you forgot this."

Colt's eyes widened at the sight of the vehicle there, held in place as if stuck in a crimson tree.

Geoffrey smiled. "And I must say, Mr. Colt. I am surprised at you. Pleasantly surprised. You left your children in your car, didn't you? Were you hoping they would distract me long enough to let you get away?"

The red broke through the car door and filled the backseat. It pulled out the bundled blanket, holding it up to see. The blanket flapped open. There were no children inside.

It took Geoffrey a moment to process, confused blinking turning to abrupt rage. He glared at Colt. "What did you do with them?!"

And Geoffrey caught a grenade with his face. The explosion knocked him back, making him release both Colt and the car at once.

A gaping hole in his chest, Colt still managed a bloody smile as he fell into the rolling waves.

-+-+-+-+-

Geoffrey scowled through the smoke as it cleared. He ran up to the guard rail and looked out. He couldn't see the man in the water.

Ozmere and Moss approached from behind.

'What happened?' the reaper asked. 'Did you get him?'

The anger dissipated from Geoffrey's face and became a frown. "I did get him, yes." He brought down one of the red tendrils. Colt's coat hung from it, dripping with blood. Geoffrey peeled back the cloth to reveal the man's still-beating heart. "But he was not supposed to die that quickly. I wanted to torture him much more, first."

'Aww. I'm sorry.'

"And he hid his children from me, too! How did he do that?! I was going to make him watch them die! But no! Mr. Colt, you were a real bastard!"

'Well, at least you got to kill him,' said Ozmere. 'He was a wanted man, right? Imagine if someone else had gotten him before you.'

Geoffrey just pouted.

Ozmere frowned as well. 'I suppose I could go find the body, if you want, but we really should be leaving now. You've made quite the stir here. We need to get you back to Sescoria where Abolish can protect you.'

"Really? But I was holding back. I only killed a few dozen people."

'Yes, but that is more than enough to make national news. And if it makes international news, then the Vanguard's aberration hunters will definitely come to investigate.'

"Well, if that is the case, then I might as well just devour the entire city before they get here. There are at least a hundred thousand people in this city, right? That should make me quite strong, yes?"

'No! If you do that, they'll send their very best warriors! Which would ruin all of our plans for Atreya!'

"Bah. Fine then."

'If you want to eat an entire city, then we'll arrange that for you somewhere safer.'

"Mm, okay. Oh, but before that, I need to go back to Brighton and tell my grandpa that I will be leaving with you."

'Your grandfather, huh? What's he like?'

"He has a reaper, too, actually. Why don't you come with me to meet him? He is a lot of fun. I am sure you would like him."

'Hmm. Alright. Lead the way.'

-+-+-+-+-

Hector pulled into the parking lot and hopped off the bike. He eyed the address on the far corner of the building and double-checked Colt's text message:

delroy. 8133 sampson st. life/death. keep them safe

He left the engine running and ran inside the outlet store. Garovel followed.

The place was a mess. Toppled shelves and scattered clothing riddled the floor. Hector stopped in the center aisle, looking around. 'I don't see anyone.'

Garovel floated ahead of him. 'There was obviously a struggle here. Did everyone run away? You'd think there'd at least be police officers here.'

"Wait..." Hector heard a faint squeal. A baby. He followed the sound to the back of the store.

Two shelves had been pushed together, leaving only a small crack between them. Hector pulled them apart to see the twins there.

'He really left them here for you...'

"I'm afraid of what that could mean..." Hector took them in his arms. They started crying louder as he carried them back out to the motorcycle.

'What do you want to do with them?'

"Uh..." Hector eyed the bike again. "First things first... how the hell do I carry them both on a motorcycle?"

'Make yourself an iron carriage around your chest.'

He sat on the bike with both arms full, and then did as Garovel suggested. The metal formed from his back, grew around his torso, and gradually enveloped the children, freeing up Hector's arms.

They didn't like it and kicked against the metal, so he expanded it out a bit, giving them slightly more space. They had enough room to move their arms and legs a bit, but their bodies fit snuggly into place. Then he added a pair of tiny iron helmets, as well as caps for their knees and elbows.

He pulled out of the parking lot again and started back the way he had come.

'You're going to take them home with you?'

'What else can I do?'

'Hmm.' Garovel paused. 'I suppose that will be fine for a few days. But is that a long-term solution? We don't know if Colt will be coming back for them.'

'Well... I don't know... but he asked me to keep them safe, so...'

Garovel gave a nod. 'I suppose that's all that matters at the moment.'

Hector didn't get on the highway yet. It had been blocked on the way into the city, and he doubted it had been cleared already. Instead, he followed the street beyond the city limits and waited until he saw the open country before getting on the larger road.

The kids took a while to adjust to the ride, crying for a good half hour before settling down.

'Do you, um... do you think this was Geoffrey's doing?'

Garovel was slow to answer. 'That might explain why we haven't seen him in Brighton. But you'd think Colt would have mentioned Geoffrey in his text.'

'I don't think he had much time, seeing as he never replied. And... if it was Geoffrey, then Colt might've been worried that I'd go after him instead of getting the kids to safety...'

'Hmm.'

With a clear, open road ahead of him and a setting sun over the horizon, Hector eyed the children another time. They both stared back at him, chubby-cheeked and curious.

Hector frowned inside his riding helmet. 'Garovel... what the hell are we gonna do...?'

-+-+-+-+-

"Hello."

"...Agh? Hmm? What's happening?"

"Easy there. You've had a rough day."

"Where am I? Who are you?"

"You're dead. My name is Bohwanox. And there's something I'd like to ask you."

#  ~Ch. 27~

# 'O, implacable father...!'

Colt opened his eyes. Dark waters greeted him. As did a shark, its teeth already digging into his chest.

'Oh yeah,' said Bohwanox, touching Colt's shoulder. 'The current carried you into shark-infested waters, by the way.'

Colt would have yelled at the reaper if he could. Burning aches shot through his body, regrowing muscle, restoring flesh faster than the shark could tear it away. He punched the fish in the nose. It released him but didn't flee, and after a moment, it lunged for him again. He kicked the beast with all the strength he could muster, and it torpedoed into the murky blackness.

Colt swam up to the water's surface, where things were no calmer. Waves kicked him up and tossed him around like a pool toy.

'If you want to talk to me, then just think the words inside your head,' said Bohwanox.

'Gah! Fuck you!'

'Good job. Also, there's another shark behind you.'

Colt could barely turn in time to see the dorsal fin disappear. He couldn't feel the jaws clamp down on his leg, but getting dragged back under was informative enough.

He sent the shark flying out of the water. 'I don't have time for this shit!'

'Are your children still safe?'

'Hopefully, yeah. They should be with Hector, unless something went wrong.'

'Ah! Hector, huh? That's good, then. I had to keep my distance while Geoffrey was chasing you, but Hector is the reason I was keeping tabs on you in the first place.'

'Hey, which way's the shore?'

Bohwanox pointed.

The reaper was clear as day to him, even in the nightly waters. Light seemed to make no difference, despite the fact that Bohwanox was an already dark figure. To Colt's eyes, the reaper seemed not to have a face, being entirely obscured by a pitch black cloak. Even the hands and feet were hidden.

Colt started swimming, staying under the waves. The current fought him, but he plowed through. 'So Hector is your servant, too, is that it?'

'No, no. Reapers can only have one servant. Hector's reaper is named Garovel.'

'Hmm. I guess now I know where the kid's inhuman power comes from.'

'Indeed. And you're quite fortunate, by the way. If Geoffrey had consumed your soul, I wouldn't have been able to resurrect you. I was just going to leave and tell Hector what happened until I saw that your soul was still intact.'

Yet another shark drew close, and Colt punched it back into the darkness. 'Well. I am grateful to you, just so it's clear.'

'Don't be,' said Bohwanox. 'That's not why I revived you.'

-+-+-+-+-

'Nice place you got here,' said Ozmere. Moss followed close behind as usual, marveling silently at the mansion's spacious corridors and ornate woodwork.

"Thank you." Geoffrey had kept Colt's heart and coat both. Even if the whole affair had proved a disappointment, he could at least expand his collection of souvenirs.

He was a bit surprised to see the mansion's halls full of people again. He hadn't even been gone a week, but apparently, his grandfather had been busy. Most of the people were obviously new hires, as they did not scurry out of his way whenever they saw him coming. One of the lackeys even bumped into him. The guy made a face, as if about to say something quite rude, but when he saw Moss's hulking form stop behind Geoffrey, the mook seemed to think better of it and apologized instead.

The three of them found Damian and Feromas in the main study.

"Hello, Grandpa!"

"Hello, Grandson!" Damian returned a smile, which waned as he saw Geoffrey's guests. "And who are they?"

"My friends! Ozmere and Moss. They're from Abolish! Neat, huh? I am going to go with them so that they can help me get stronger. There are a lot more members in Sescoria, too! Ozmere said they would feed an entire town to me. Can you imagine that? An entire town!"

Abruptly, Geoffrey noticed the tension in the room. Damian's face held none of its earlier mirth, and Ozmere's expression was one of confusion. Even Moss had become attentive, and for a time, no one said anything.

Feromas broke the silence. 'Dozer or Morgunov?'

Ozmere hesitated. 'Morgunov.'

More silence.

Geoffrey looked between everyone again. "Why did you all go quiet?"

'Because your friend Ozmere recognizes me,' said Feromas. 'Isn't that right?'

'You are Feromas...'

'I am.'

'And is this...?'

'His name is Damian Rofal, now. But he is the same servant, yes.'

Ozmere floated back toward the door, and Moss stepped in front of him. 'L-look,' the reaper said, 'I have nothing but the greatest respect for someone of your caliber. We have no quarrel with you.'

"That's too bad," said Damian.

'No, please! St--!'

Damian raised a hand. There came a sudden flash and a great crunch as Ozmere and Moss were both obliterated.

Wide-eyed, Geoffrey could see the air visibly distorted in the spaces where their bodies used to be. A shockwave passed over Geoffrey as the air refilled the vacuum, and all that remained was a thin vapor. After a moment, that too disappeared.

It took Geoffrey a second to even begin understanding what had happened. "Grandpa, what the hell?!"

"I'm sorry, Geoffrey. I know they were your friends. I should have told you before not to bring any members of Abolish here."

"Why did you kill them?!"

'Because no one can know that Damian and I are still alive,' said Feromas.

Geoffrey eyed the empty space again. "But! What did you even do to them?!"

"I reduced them to little more than dust particles," said Damian. "Though, I suppose in the reaper's case, there is genuinely no trace left, as there was no body mass in the first place."

Geoffrey just stared at him.

"If you like, I don't mind you going to Sescoria to play with the other members of Abolish," the old man said, "but they can never know of what happened here. In fact, don't even tell them that you have a grandfather."

'But it may be difficult to explain why those two never returned,' said Feromas. 'Perhaps it would be better if Geoffrey simply stayed in Brighton with us.'

Damian gave a shrug. "Eh. Geoffrey can do what he likes. He's old enough to make his own decisions now."

"Grandpa, who are you, exactly? Why were they so afraid of you?"

Feromas answered before Damian could. 'No offense, Geoffrey, but you don't seem very good at keeping secrets. I think you already know more than enough.'

"And besides," Damian added, "the porcupines would be upset if I told you their baking recipes. Very stingy creatures, they are."

Geoffrey blinked dully.

'Well, at least he's lucid when it matters.'

Sour-faced, Geoffrey left them alone. He returned to his room and tossed his keepsakes of Colt on a bedside table. When the coat hit wood, however, it made a hard sound, harder than mere cloth should have made. He rifled through its deep pockets and soon found a variety of objects. A few coins, some spare bullets, bubblegum, a handkerchief, a granola bar, a flick knife.

And a cellphone.

-+-+-+-+-

Hector ended up getting pulled over by a highway trooper on the way back to Brighton. After taking a moment to absorb the sight of the motorcycle and helmeted person with two babies wrapped in metal, the uniformed officer seemed to have difficulty explaining precisely how illegal and stupid the whole thing was.

Hector, of course, was even worse at explaining his circumstances--not that there was any way he could have talked his way out of it. At length, he made the officer's gun an iron paperweight, broke through his handcuffs, and apologetically destroyed the radio in the trooper's car.

Garovel suggested he slash the vehicle's tires as well and then call a tow truck for the guy, but Hector thought that would be overkill. Disarmed and without backup, the trooper did not seem particularly interested in pursuing him any farther, so Hector let him be and rode off toward Brighton again.

As he neared his house, Hector kept trying to think of how he would explain the children to his parents. He considered trying to sneak them in, but that didn't strike him as very practical, considering the kids could simply cry and alert his parents at any time.

He left the motorcycle in the cemetery again and carried the children to the house in his arms.

When he entered, he found his parents in the den. His mother was sleeping against his father's shoulder. The man saw him and the children, and Hector could see the thought process taking place on his father's face.

The man gently woke his wife. They stood and approached him together. "Hector," his father said, "why do you have two babies in your arms?"

'You got this under control?' Garovel asked.

'We'll see,' thought Hector. "A friend of mine is having, uh... kind of a... a family emergency. He needed someone to look after his kids. And, um. I'm sorta the only person he could rely on..."

His mother cocked an eyebrow. "Who is this friend?"

"He's a cop..."

"A cop?" she said. "How did you become friends with a cop?"

"Ah... a school program thing. He and some others were doing... like a... seminar type thing..."

His father folded his arms. "And that was enough for him to entrust you with his children, was it?"

"I, uh... well, I sorta got more involved than the other kids did. Visited the police station and... yeah."

"Uh-huh," she said. "And what sort of family emergency are we talking about here?"

"I'm not completely sure about that, myself... but he needed my help, so..."

"How long does he want you to look after them?" his father asked.

"Uh... a few days, maybe? That's sorta unclear, too..."

Samuel and Vanessa Goffe exchanged looks. Then they both eyed the children another time.

His mother frowned. "Are you sure this friend of yours didn't just abandon these children?"

"...He'd die before doing that."

She raised a doubtful eyebrow. She put her hand up to the baby girl, who grabbed it. Smirking, she looked at Hector again. "Where are the supplies?"

"What?"

"The baby supplies. Surely, your friend gave you a bag. Bottles? Powder? Diapers, at least?"

"Uh... um..."

"Ugh, wow. Okay. Looks like I'm making a trip to the store tonight."

Hector blinked. "Ah--I-I'll take care of it... It's my responsibility."

"Pfft," said Vanessa. "What does a sixteen-year-old know about taking care of a baby?" She grabbed her coat by the door. "I'll go get the essentials. Back in a jiffy." She kissed her husband and was out the door.

"I'll make some little beds for them," his father said. "Won't exactly be a crib, but it should suffice for the time being."

"Uh, but--you don't have to do that--"

"Oh, they're still sleeping in your room. Don't you worry about that. You can handle the midnight crying and feeding, thanks."

Hector followed him to a hallway closet, where the man retrieved a set of fresh blankets. And with a pair of large laundry baskets, the beds were complete.

"This cop friend of yours must trust you a lot."

"Y-yeah."

"There's really no one else, huh?"

"No..."

In his room, they found a nice spot by the foot of the bed. And as they placed the children in their new beds, Hector saw a gentler expression on his father's face than he could ever recall.

"...Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Um... w-what was I like? As a baby, I mean."

"Oh, you were horrible," he said. "Cried all the time. Couldn't take you anywhere without making a scene. Really picky eater, too. Annoyed the hell out of your mother."

"Oh... s-sorry."

"Eh, don't be," said Samuel. "Bothersome as you were, it was still kind of fun, in a strange way. And besides, you really mellowed out after you turned two or so. It got a bit boring then, actually."

"Boring?"

"Yeah. Potty training you was a breeze. Same with teaching you to dress yourself and tie your shoes. Never made a fuss about your food anymore."

"Y-you wanted me to be more difficult...?"

"I don't know about that. Boring can be a good thing." He started back for the door.

Hector frowned. He had another question, and he had to struggle to get it out. "Dad, uh... why didn't you and mom have any other kids?"

He turned and tilted his head. "What's with all the sudden questions?"

"I, ah... just... I don't know, uh..."

The man took a moment to scratch his cheek. He eyed Hector again. "No big reason. Neither of us loved the idea of having more kids, and your mother really hated being pregnant."

"But... you both... I mean, just now, with the babies... you both seemed like you were kinda... enjoying yourselves."

"Not sure what gave you that impression."

"I... ah..."

"You shouldn't try to read so much into things, Hector. You'll drive yourself crazy."

And his father left.

Hector gave a quiet sigh. He exchanged glances with Garovel, who looked as if he had something to say but remained silent.

Alone again, he watched the kids sleep for a bit before deciding that he should make use of his downtime. He wasn't about to leave the children unattended, but there was something he had been meaning to practice with his iron.

He sat in the middle of the floor and made an elongated chunk of metal. He gave it a pointed tip, and suddenly it was a dagger, though still very primitive. But that wasn't his goal.

Hector focused his mind, felt his soul there, and pushed it into the iron. "Garovel," he said. "Come here for a second."

The reaper floated over, and Hector poked him with the tip of the blade. Garovel flinched. 'Hey. Careful with that thing.'

"Aha. It really works..."

'Congratulations. Now stop stabbing me.'

"Stay there for a minute. There's something else I need to try." He scooted away and sat on his bed.

'How did I become your guinea pig?'

"Just don't move..."

'I liked it better when you were terrified of hurting me.'

He tossed the dagger. It phased through the reaper with no effect. "Bah..."

'Hmm.'

"So... I can focus the iron with imaginary strength like it's an extension of my body... but only if I'm touching it, apparently..."

'I see. You wanna be able to focus iron at a distance, the same way that you can create it at a distance.'

"Yeah. Then I could throw things that'll hurt reapers. Or trap them in cages, maybe."

'You and I aren't synced enough, but that's definitely possible.'

"Good to know at least... because if I can't do that, then... I don't know how I'll ever manage to catch an enemy reaper. You guys always stay out of reach... and even when you do get close, you're so damn quick..."

'True. That was the whole problem in Sescoria. But it'll be a while before you can pull that off. Projecting your soul will require significantly more control than you currently have.'

"And you said before... there's no way to speed up the syncing process?"

'Correct.'

He practiced with iron a while longer, until he heard his mother return. She showed him how to change a diaper, and he made sure the children were fed before putting them back to bed.

Hector thought about asking his mother the same questions that he'd asked his father, but that seemed wrong, somehow, like subjecting them to some kind of secret test. Then again, it was also frightening, the idea that she might answer differently. He honestly wasn't sure he wanted to know if his father had been lying in some way.

So he stayed quiet. And soon enough, his mother was gone again.

His eyes fell upon the children another time. "Garovel... what do you think I should do with them?"

'Tough to say, really. We don't know if it's even safe to put them into foster care. Presumably, Colt would've done that if he thought it was best for them, but who knows?'

Hector frowned. "We're lacking in information again..."

'Yes, we are. I suppose that means we shouldn't make any hasty decisions, then.'

"But... sooner or later..."

'Yeah. You've bought yourself a few days, as far as your parents are concerned. For now, I think the only thing we can really do is wait. Hopefully, Colt will get back to you soon.'

"I guess so..."

'But it's worth thinking about what we'll do if Colt never comes for them.'

"Hmm..."

'The way I see it, we will essentially have three options. Option one: we put them into foster care. Obviously, that could be dangerous, but even if we can't eliminate the danger, then we could at least mitigate it by placing them in different homes.'

"Wha? Separate them?"

'I know it's not exactly ideal. But twins suddenly showing up in the system is a dead give away to anyone who's looking. It would be far safer for them if we split them up.'

"I don't like that option at all..."

'Fair enough. Option two: we find them a new family on our own.'

Hector gave the reaper a slanted look. "How the hell...? That sounds impossible."

'Maybe it IS impossible,' said Garovel. 'Obviously, a good family wouldn't just take them without asking any questions. Maybe we could explain somehow or find some other way to pull it off, but... at the moment, nothing springs to mind.'

"Ugh, geez... and what's the third option?"

As Garovel was about to answer, however, Hector's phone began beeping. It sat inside the coat on his desk, and they both turned to look at it there.

#  ~Ch. 28~

# 'Beware thy shadow...'

Hector checked the messages. The conversation read:

unknown_sender: delroy. 8133 sampson st. life/death. keep them safe

user: r u ok?

user: what happened?

unknown_sender: im fine do u have the kids?

"He actually answered," said Hector.

'That's a relief. Ask him what happened again.'

Hector did so. They didn't have to wait long for the reply.

a lot. easier to explain in person. lets meet up asap

"Hmm." He showed the message to Garovel.

'There's no reason to tell him where you live. Pick somewhere else.'

"The cemetery?"

'Eh, that's too close. You know that park west of here? About two kilometers or so?'

"Uh... Nelson Park, right?"

'Yeah.'

"Okay..." He sent the message.

ok heading there now

Hector's brow receded. "In the middle of the night...? Geez. I guess he's eager to get his kids back. I suppose I would be, too, if I were him..."

He wasn't sure if he should sneak out through the window. It seemed like a bad idea with two babies in his arms. He knew his parents both had early starts in the morning, especially his mother, so he checked downstairs and was relieved to find that they had both gone to bed already.

He slipped out through the front door with the children, bringing the baby supplies just in case. As he approached the motorcycle, he made a fresh iron carriage for them.

Hector soon arrived at Nelson Park. He saw no one immediately around, save a young couple walking by the entrance and an occasional passing car.

"It's pretty dark," said Hector. "You mind helping me find him from the sky?"

'Sure thing.' Garovel flew above the trees, which were dense enough that Hector had trouble following where the reaper had gone.

'But, uh... stay in my line of sight, please...'

'Yes, Mother.'

Hector moved toward the center of the park, where there was a manmade pond with a small fountain. He stopped under a tall lamp along the main footpath, but he decided not to sit on the bench there.

'Hmm,' Garovel said after a few minutes. 'I don't see him. Do you?'

'No. Guess we're waiting...'

-+-+-+-+-

Nestled behind a tall air vent on the roof of an apartment complex, Geoffrey found his spot. It was rather far, but he could see practically the whole park from here. He pointed his binoculars at the moving glimmer in the sky, and he saw the reaper. Hector's reaper.

Geoffrey grinned. "Aha. I thought it might be you two who helped Mr. Colt." He panned down across the park. "Now where is Hector...?"

He saw the dark figure below a streetlamp. Geoffrey touched the sore lump on his chest. It was no more than an occasional nuisance, so he had never bothered to get it looked at by a doctor, contrary to Desmond's wishes. Rather, Geoffrey enjoyed the feeling, enjoyed how it reminded him of Hector--his very special friend.

Honestly, he wasn't sure if he even wanted to kill Hector. Thinking about all the potential hostilities that they could have, the violent clashes and innocent casualties and long sessions of torture, Geoffrey couldn't help but smile. Hector seemed like someone who could amuse him for a very long time.

But at the same time, Geoffrey knew that he could not let things draw out too much. There was one insurmountable obstacle that would surely end all the fun sooner or later. His grandfather.

Damian was rebuilding the family business. Hector was an active hindrance to that effort. Their clash seemed inevitable. And obviously, stopping Damian was no kind of option. So the more he thought about it, the more Geoffrey realized that even if he didn't exactly want Hector dead, he certainly didn't want someone else to get the kill. That was, after all, why he had told Feromas and Damian nothing before coming here. If Hector had to die, then Geoffrey had to be the one responsible for it. Simple as that.

He saw Hector pull out a cellphone and begin texting. Colt's phone started beeping soon after. The message read:

where r u?

Geoffrey thought a moment and then wrote back:

sry. cant make it. reschedule for tmrw?

There was a long pause. He returned to watching the reaper as his patience began to wear thin, and then Hector's next message read:

fine. but tell me what happened

Geoffrey pursed his lips as he considered what to write next. "Ah, here we go..." He wrote:

geoffrey attacked me but i got away. hiding from cops now

He laughed to himself. "And people think I'm not smart."

Hector sent one more text, suggesting they meet back up in the afternoon, to which Geoffrey agreed, and then Geoffrey watched them leave the park. Hector was too difficult to follow in the darkness, but the reaper was clear as day.

Geoffrey kept his distance, bounding between rooftops, splashes of red carrying him along as he maintained his view. And it wasn't long before he saw the reaper slow. He looked through his binoculars again and watched the reaper disappear into a two-story house.

"So that is where you live," said Geoffrey. "Interesting."

For a while, Geoffrey merely sat and watched the house.

"What should I do?" he mused. "Hmm. I do not want to just rush right to the good part. It has to be something special. Obviously, I need to make him watch his reaper die, but what else? Umm... oh! The children! Of course the children! I couldn't make Mr. Colt watch them die, so I can make Hector watch, instead!"

Geoffrey furrowed his brow and folded his arms. "But wait. He is much stronger than Mr. Colt. Removing the children from his possession without killing him first could prove difficult... Maybe if I lure him away from the house...? Well, let me think. It is the middle of the night... and he is rather protective... How can I get him to leave without taking the children with him? Hmm..."

-+-+-+-+-

Back in his room, Hector sat practicing with metal, trying to improve his speed in the creation of gauntlets again. He'd found an old stopwatch and decided to time himself. After a few attempts, he discovered that he had managed to shave a whole second off the process.

"Only another fourteen and a half minutes to go," he mumbled.

He was about to give it another try when a distant pop interrupted him. A small tremor passed through the room, and the light from his desk lamp flickered and died.

"What was that?"

'An explosion, if I'm not mistaken.' Garovel flew up through the ceiling.

Hector waited in the dark. 'The power isn't coming back on...'

'It's not just your house. Several blocks just went completely dark. I think we can assume the blast came from the power plant.'

'What do you want me to do? Should I go check it out?'

'I'm thinking so, yeah.'

Hector looked at the twins in the darkness, still asleep in their makeshift beds. 'But... what about the children?'

'Do you think you should stay?'

His expression strained. 'I don't know... people could be hurt out there, right? Trapped under rubble or something?'

'That they could.'

He stood and ran a hand across his face as he started pacing across the room. 'What do I do? If someone's dying over there, and I could--agh--but I just--!'

'Take the kids with you.'

He watched Garovel float back down through the ceiling. 'What?!'

'You could be gone for hours, depending on how things go. Shouldn't leave babies unattended for that long.'

'But it's fucking dangerous!'

'You'll keep them safe.'

He was incredulous. 'You can't know that! What if I fuck things up again?!'

'Hector,' said Garovel. 'I know you still lack confidence, but there is no doubt in my mind that you will protect them. Need I remind you of all the people you've already saved?'

He looked at the floor and frowned.

'I do need to? Okay, well, let's see. There's Bohwanox, me, Colt, these same children, me again, those people from the apartment complex the other day, Lynn, Roman, Mehlsanz, the fucking Queen of Atreya, me a third time--oh, and that girl from your first night as my servant, remember her? Come on, there are so many that I can't even remember them all. And guess what? You're stronger now than you've ever been.'

'I... ah... but if they get hurt...'

'They'll always be in danger of getting hurt. But right now, one of the safest places they can be is by your side. Just don't use them to reflect bullets, and I think they'll be fine.'

Hector was silent.

Garovel waited, and then said, 'How about I go scout out the situation first, then?'

He looked up. 'N-no. I don't want you going anywhere without me, either.'

'I'll be careful.' The reaper moved toward the wall.

'No, you're right. I'll... I'll keep the kids safe... and I'll keep you safe, too.'

'Then let's hurry,' said Garovel.

Hector gathered up the children.

-+-+-+-+-

Walking all the way back to the motel from the port had been irritatingly slow. He'd wanted to just steal a car--as apparently Geoffrey had thrown Colt's into the water--but Bohwanox wouldn't allow it.

Yellow tape lined the parking lot, but after waiting for the last squad car to leave for the night, Colt was relieved to discover that his room had not been ransacked by the police. His money, clothes, and travel supplies were all safe.

'I suppose this means the cops weren't able to identify you,' said Bohwanox.

"Could be that someone heard gunshots but no one actually saw me." Colt exchanged his torn shirt and pants for fresh ones, finding a lone shark tooth in the collar as he threw the old clothes away. "That, or the cops here are just stupid--which is honestly more probable."

'I thought you'd think more highly of the police.'

"Not in this fucking country." He gathered his things and headed back outside.

'Then why did you even bother becoming a police officer in the first place?'

'Because I thought I could be useful,' said Colt. It was the dead of night, so almost no one else was on the street, but he decided to keep their conversation quiet anyway. 'Tried the military for a while, but it was all training and bullshit. Had to spend all my time with a bunch of dumbasses, and we never even left the country. Got back to Brighton, which was up to its eyeballs in criminal shit, and the law was doing absolutely everything it could to help the assholes get away with it. So I started using the law to fuck them over every chance I got.'

'And that's when the Rofals took notice?'

Colt raised an eyebrow. 'You know about that, huh? How long have you been following me, anyway?'

'Since Hector helped you and your kids escape from that underground mansion.'

'I see.'

The reaper tilted his shadowed face at him. 'You don't strike me as the type of person who wants to improve society. No offense.'

'I am not a good man,' said Colt. 'A good man would regret a lot of the things I've done, I think. But I've known good people. Or at least, people who deserved a lot better than what they got. And I figured that I could do things that good people can't.'

'Things, huh? Care to elaborate?' said Bohwanox.

'No.'

'We are going to be spending a lot of time together. It would be best if we learned to get along.'

'I think we'll get along just fine without knowing every little thing about each other.'

'You're not curious about me, then?'

'Tell me whatever you want. I'm not stopping you.'

'Hmm. So you'd prefer a business-like relationship.'

'Hell yes.'

Bohwanox paused. 'I'm okay with that. As long as you don't disobey me.'

'Fine.' Colt stopped, looked around the open street, and then eyed Bohwanox another time. 'Look, I know you're against it, but I really need to steal a car if I wanna make it all the way back to Brighton by morning. How about if I steal it from someone who deserves it?'

'I suppose that would be okay. But can you actually find someone like that?'

An hour later, he had a car. Annoyingly, Bohwanox made him drive the drunken idiot home first.

Next, Colt found a pay phone.

'Calling Hector?'

'Yeah. I memorized his number in case of emergencies.'

'Quite prepared, aren't you?'

'Not enough, obviously.' He listened to it ring.

A few beats passed. 'He's not picking up,' said Bohwanox.

'The kid's probably just busy.' Colt hung up and scratched his beard, eyeing the phone up and down. 'Bah. This thing doesn't have SMS. I gotta find another cellphone so I can text him.'

'How long is that going to take?'

Colt abruptly noticed the mobile phone store at the far end of the street. 'Couple minutes, I'm guessing.'

#  ~Ch. 29~

# 'Forth unto ruin...'

Hector pulled the motorcycle around a corner and shut the engine off. From afar, he could see floodlights lining the street, trying to light up the otherwise pitch dark rubble. Teams of emergency services already surrounded the collapsed building.

Garovel proceeded on while Hector waited beyond the police officers' line of sight.

'Maybe I should go with you,' said Hector. 'For all we know, Geoffrey could be in there.'

'He's not,' said Garovel. 'If he were that close, I'd be able to sense his presence.'

'You're sure?'

'Sure as I can be. If I scream for help, come save me.'

'Gah...'

'Relax. I'll be cautious.'

Before silence could return, however, he realized that his phone was beeping. He reached around the children attached to his torso and read the message:

r they safe?

"What the...?" He squinted through his helm. The ID of the sender was different from the one earlier. Hector asked why and waited for the response.

new phone. r they safe? lets meet

Hector's face scrunched up. He could chalk the repeated safety question up to fatherly concern, but he couldn't understand why Colt suddenly wanted to reschedule again. Garovel interrupted his train of thought, however.

'Hector, there's someone trapped in here.'

'Shit.' He forewent his questions for Colt and simply typed the address of the power station into the phone.

And Garovel was suddenly there in front of him again, reaching for his shoulder. 'Follow me. I don't think the rescue team will find him in time.'

He started running as he hit send. 'Okay.'

The kids fit tightly enough into their iron carriage that they did not jostle as Hector headed toward the police line. The uniformed officers saw him spring out of the darkness and bound over the hood of a vehicle. He could hear them radioing it in but paid them no mind.

Aside from a few blown out windows, the front of the building was still more or less intact, but the inside was another story. A team of rescuers with shovels and hatchets spotted Hector immediately. They shouted at him, but he didn't stop to chat. He followed Garovel through a side room and down a flight of concrete stairs.

Halfway to the basement, however, he found the narrow staircase blocked.

'It's safe to punch your way through,' Garovel said from the other side.

Hector made an iron bubble around his torso, ensuring the children were completely enveloped. He reached into the rubble with metal hands and ripped open a path for himself. Splintered wood, crushed plaster, and torn metal all tumbled down the steps, and he kicked it out of his way as he reached the basement floor. He opened the iron bubble again to make sure the children had air.

'This way.'

He passed through a corridor and then two more rooms, seeing holes in the ceiling and huge cracks in the walls. The floor trembled, and he had to stop running for a moment to keep his balance.

'There he is.' The reaper pointed toward the next room over, where Hector could see the entire ceiling had caved in.

"Help!" came a yell from beneath the pile of wood and concrete. "Someone!"

A network of metal beams hung above the man, all torn and bent, some even dangling as if ready to fall on top of him.

'Both his arm and leg are pinned,' Garovel explained. 'Hurry and lift those blocks there.'

Hector went to move a block, but the others all shifted as soon as he touched it. The pinned man winced in pain. Hector took a step back.

'Hmm.' Garovel floated around the scene. 'It's more of a mess than I thought. You'll have to take it slowly. Follow my directions carefully.'

The reaper pointed out each individual block to move in sequence. Hector tried to be both gentle and quick, but it still took upwards of ten minutes before he reached the last chunk of concrete. Hector lifted it off the man's leg, allowing him to crawl free.

Before the victim could thank him, however, another tremor shook the room, and all the metal beams overhead shuddered. One fell straight for the man. Hector leapt up and swatted it away, feeling his own arm snap in the process.

"Can you walk?" said Hector, hearing more beams creaking and bending.

The man scrambled out of the room instead of answering.

Two more beams fell at once, and Hector caught them both on iron shoulders. The floor cracked under his feet.

And for a moment, as he struggled under the weight, he could see the twins' faces. "I can't believe you're not crying." He shrugged the beams off and sprinted for the open doorway. The rest of the room collapsed behind him. He shielded the children from the flying debris.

Through the dust, he saw them again. They both just stared at him, more curious than upset. He looked for Garovel, but the reaper had already disappeared in search of more survivors.

Hector couldn't help smirking at the kids. "Not impressed by loud, dangerous things anymore, is that it?"

The girl started crying, and the boy soon joined in.

"...I jinxed it."

'Found two more people,' said Garovel.

'Show me where.' He frowned at the kids. "Just a little longer, you two. I know it's scary."

The next two people were trapped in a broom closet. They'd presumably tried to take shelter there, only to have a massive line of shelves fall and block the door. Hector cleared it easily enough. One of them couldn't walk, so Hector hoisted the man over his shoulder and carried him all the way out of the building.

Police officers were waiting for him at the entrance, and Hector was briefly afraid they would try to get in his way. Instead, they took the injured man off his hands, carrying the guy to an ambulance.

Another officer offered to take the twins away as well, making Hector deliberate a moment before deciding to run away with them. He leapt over the police line and ducked into a narrow side street.

Under cover of darkness, he listened for Garovel's next orders. When none came, he asked the obvious. 'See anyone else trapped?'

'I'm double-checking, but I think that's everyone.'

'Really? I thought there'd be more...'

'I imagine the power station doesn't have a large night crew. And I bet a lot of the place is automated.'

'So... all the people made it out safely?'

'Well. No, unfortunately not. There's a fire near the far end of the building. Looks like some poor guy burned to death.'

Hector frowned and sighed. 'I could've... if I'd...'

'I don't think it was possible to save everyone here, shitty as that sounds. You'd need to have been ridiculously powerful, and you're already stronger than normal, given your age as a servant.'

Hector had no response. He waited for Garovel to finish up searching. The reaper made a third pass to ensure no one had been missed.

'Looks like there was only one casualty,' said Garovel. 'Firefighters got a couple people out, too.'

'I guess that's... something...'

'I need a couple hours to take care of this soul,' said Garovel. 'You should head back home. The sun will be up soon, and you've got school.'

'Alright...' Before starting the motorcycle, however, he stopped himself. 'Actually, I think I'll see if Colt shows up first.'

The reaper did not answer.

'...Garovel? Okay. See you later, I guess.'

After a few minutes, he decided to circle the block a couple times. After an hour, he was about to text Colt again when a familiar voice caught his attention.

'Found him.'

Hector turned and blinked at the long-faced reaper there. "Bohwanox! What are you doing here?"

'Helping someone find you.'

"Wha?"

Colt rounded the corner. "There you are."

Hector looked between them, struggling to ask the necessary question.

Bohwanox got there first. 'Yes, Colt can see me. I resurrected him after Geoffrey killed him.'

Colt cocked an eyebrow at Hector. "What the hell kind of baby carriage is that?"

"Ah--uh--" Hector released the iron around the children, taking them both into his arms. He immediately handed them over to their father.

Colt looked even more confused as he took them. "Where'd the metal go?"

"It's, uh..." Hector scratched his helm as if it were his head. He looked to the reaper for help.

'I'll explain later,' said Bohwanox.

Hector gave a grateful nod and eyed Colt again. "Why'd you reschedule the meet again, anyway?" he asked. "I thought you were hiding from the police."

"Reschedule? What are you talking about?"

"Your text. We agreed to meet at noon tomorrow, but then, uh... you, uh..."

Colt's brow lowered. "I don't follow."

Hector exhaled a curt breath and pulled out his phone. He showed the conversation to both of them.

"...I didn't send any of those first texts there," said Colt. "I'm not sure what--" And the realization hit him. It left his mouth hanging open, and for a moment, he merely stared at Hector, speechless.

"What's the matter?" said Hector.

"When Geoffrey killed me, I lost my phone," said Colt. "And I think he must have taken it and sent you those text messages."

Hector squinted, still confused and looking between Colt and Bohwanox. "What're you...? But then..."

Colt reread the messages. "Did Geoffrey not attack you?"

"N-no, I..." And then he, too, understood. The sudden horror was a lightning bolt through his chest. He could only whisper his next words. "He followed me home...!"

Hector ran for the bike.

"I'll go with you," said Colt.

"No!" Hector yelled as the engine roared to life. "Geoffrey would kill all of you!"

"I can help--"

"No, you can't!" Hector had no patience for the man. "Just! Get out of the city! I'll call you when it's safe!" He punched the throttle, and the bike tore down the street with screeching tires.

The sun had already risen. Traffic was growing, but he still had enough room to weave between cars without much trouble.

'Garovel, if you can hear me... I think Geoffrey knows where I live. I think he might be there right now.'

He reached the house. He let the bike fall on its side and ran through the front door.

His father was in the kitchen, washing his hands in the sink. The man stood facing the small window, whistling calmly, as if nothing were wrong at all.

Hector looked around. Everything seemed normal. He'd expected the worst--blood, destruction, hostages or even dead bodies--but there was none of that. No sign of violence that he could see. No sign of Geoffrey, either.

Hesitant, uncertain, he slowly approached his father. "...Dad?"

The man turned and saw him. "Whoa there. Um. Hector? You're..." He dried his hands with a towel. "Hmm. What's that on your head?"

He decided to ignore that question for now. "Dad, is... is everything okay?"

"What do you mean?"

He stared at his father's face. It wasn't vacant and lifeless like one of Geoffrey's puppets, and Hector was silently relieved. "Did, uh... did anyone come to the house?"

"Just your friend."

He stiffened. "Which friend?"

"Oh, you know the one," said his father. "The kid who's been taking you to school in the morning."

"...Did he tell you his name?"

"I don't know."

"Dad, this is important. Was it Nathan? Or Geoffrey?"

The man smirked. "Son, I honestly couldn't tell you."

Hector's jaw clenched.

"I think he went up to your room."

He eyed the staircase just beyond the kitchen door.

His father walked around him. "I have to go to work now, but I will be stopping by your school today."

"What?"

"You have been skipping class, haven't you? Your school has called several times, already, and I think I should follow up."

"Uh, that's not, ah... I mean--"

"Anyway, I will see you later."

"Dad, wait--uh."

The man stopped and turned.

"Please, just. Stay there for a minute." He moved toward the staircase. "I gotta check on something in my room first, but... just... give me one minute, okay? D-don't go anywhere."

He folded his arms. "Fine. Just don't keep me waiting."

Hector scaled the steps in a hurry, making iron around his forearms as soon as his father was out of sight.

And there was the door to his room. It was closed. He had not left it that way. He opened it.

The first thing he noticed was the stench. And then he saw the body. It was human, limp and mounted on the wall. It had been eviscerated. Blood and entrails spilled onto Hector's bed.

And perhaps it was because he was too appalled and disgusted, but at first, he didn't realize who it was. It just looked like a mutilated corpse. But then the face registered.

It was Geoffrey.

He didn't understand. Geoffrey was already dead? Hector's head spun, trying to figure out how. Or why. Or anything at all. What the hell had happened here?

And then he noticed the message scrawled next to the body in blood. It read:

~For Hector~

I finally got myself a new body. You can have my old one. ~Love, Dad

#  ~Ch. 30~

# 'No quarter...'

Hector was in shock.

He wanted to run from the room, but his legs refused to work. For a time, he could only stare at the red words in disbelief. It didn't feel real. It couldn't be.

But there was more. Horrifically, he saw another bloody message, this time on the sliding doors to his closet. Simply:

open -->

He didn't want to. He dreaded what he would see in there. But he had to look. He had to know what Geoffrey had done. And when he slid the door back, he saw a second dead body.

This one was Nathan. The young man had surely come to offer Hector a ride to school. And Geoffrey had torn him to pieces.

And still another message was scrawled onto the rear wall of the closet:

See you at school, son.

Hector could hardly breathe. He wanted to cry. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to scream. But more than anything else--he wanted to kill Geoffrey. As the seconds passed, as he regained his mind, his breath, Hector soon decided that the only thing that mattered now was ensuring Geoffrey never hurt anyone ever again. All other concerns came second. His grief and disgust and shock, it would all have to wait.

Tears in his eyes, he bolted back downstairs. Geoffrey had already left, of course, but Hector checked the rest of the house to be sure. He still saw no sign of his mother.

Back on the motorcycle, he pressed the machine for all the speed it could give him. He tried to think. What would Garovel do? Probably try to assess the situation calmly. Hector didn't know if he could do that right now. He'd never felt this kind of mind-numbing anger before, this unfiltered hatred. But Garovel wasn't here to talk sense into him. And he could not afford to be stupid about this, or even more people would end up dead.

What's more, Hector feared himself when he was this angry. Most of all, he feared that he might accidentally hurt someone innocent.

So he suppressed the fury, smothered it in his mind until it was only a vague heat, a passenger to his thoughts instead of the driver. And he focused. All that meditation had not just been for imaginary power. At the very least, he knew how to clear his mind.

Hector knew Geoffrey's power had grown. That was simple enough to deduce. And without Garovel, Hector had no access to regeneration or enhanced strength. But he still had his iron. And he sure as fuck wasn't about to run away. Iron alone would have to do.

He arrived at the school, taking the side entrance into the building. His helm drew strange looks as he rushed through the halls. There were not as many students as usual, but searching was still a chore. He tried to be both quick and thorough, eyeing people carefully, searching for the vacant expression of a puppet.

Then he heard a series of shrieks and ran toward them. A group of students were fleeing from a long streak of blood that snaked into the boy's bathroom.

He walked in on a scene of three people crouching over another. Crimson stains were everywhere. Hector recognized the dead body on the floor. Micah Chamberlain. The three people on top of him looked up in unison. All obviously puppets. Bloodied, ripped flesh hung from their lips.

"There you are," one of them said for Geoffrey, spitting out a red gob. "I'm in the teacher's lounge. Come meet me, and then we can--"

And they were completely encased in iron, all three at once, thick enough to render them entirely immobilized.

Hector left them there to suffocate.

He paused as he came out of the bathroom. A crowd of students was staring at him, and he briefly lost concentration again. And Micah's face flashed in his mind. 'No,' he told himself, squinting inside his helm. 'Not yet...! Don't think about it yet!'

He took a wavering breath and stepped forward. The crowd shied away from him, and he saw their terrified faces. They were scared of him, he suddenly realized. Of course they were.

But there was no time. Hector ran for the teacher's lounge, as fast as his unenhanced legs would allow. He soon grew winded, but that wasn't enough to slow him down. The sight of Sheryl, however, made him stop.

She was still alive. Geoffrey hadn't gotten to her yet. Hector ran toward her. She seemed frightened of him, too--or of the helm at least--but she couldn't see the puppets stalking her from behind.

Four of them. The closest one leapt at her. Hector tackled it to the ground.

He tried to encase the other three in iron, but he was only able to seal their legs. The one below bit him above the elbow and tore out a chunk of flesh. Hector grit his teeth and made a metal knife. The puppet flailed, trying to throw him off, and he buried the blade into its eye socket. Blood spurted onto Hector's helm and gloves as he held it there until the puppet stopped thrashing.

The other three had all fallen over without the use of their legs, but they still crawled toward the fleeing Sheryl. Hector finished encasing them and then ran after her.

"Wait!" he yelled. "Sheryl! It's not safe!"

"Stay the fuck away from me!"

"It's me! Hector! Please stop running!"

She did not seem interested in listening.

Another puppet sprung out at Sheryl as she passed an intersection. It grabbed her and dragged her to the ground as she shrieked and tried to pull herself away.

Hector coated the attacker's face. The groove for its mouth bumped harmlessly against Sheryl's neck, but the puppet still thrashed. Hector completed the coating and then shoved the iron statue off of her.

She tried to get up and flee again, but he grabbed her hand.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed.

"It's okay!" He pulled up the jaw of his helm, revealing his face. "Sheryl, look at me!"

Her glance turned to a stare. "H-Hector!"

"That's right."

"But you! Y-you killed that other guy! And--and--"

"He would have killed you," Hector said. "Or someone else."

"Why?! Who was he?! What the fuck is going on here?!"

"It's--agh--it's really hard to explain," he said. "Please, you have to stay close to me. I have to--" And he realized that he wasn't sure what to do with her. Just getting her out of the building didn't seem like it would be enough. As long as Geoffrey was alive, she would be in danger. And so would the others. "Where are Gregory and Janine?" he asked.

"W-why? Are they in danger, too?"

"Yes." He tried to keep his voice calm, for her sake as much as his own. "Do you know where they are?"

"Well, I--ah--" Trembling, she took a moment, squinting as she thought. "We usually come to school together, but uh--today it was just me and Micah. I, uh--I figured it was because of the power outage last night. A lot of people d-didn't come to school today, because, b-because of that. Or I th-thought that was why, but m-maybe--"

"That's good," said Hector. "They're safer at home."

"Oh, that won't make much difference," said another voice, belonging to yet another of Geoffrey's minions as it approached them from the rear corridor.

Hector placed Sheryl behind him and pulled the helm's jaw back down. He tried not to acknowledge the face of Geoffrey's puppet, but he had known Jenny Friedman for years. He had never been friends with her, scarcely even acquaintances, but still. Seeing her like this, blank-faced and mindless, was enough to make his stomach turn.

"I already know where Gregory and Janine live," she said for Geoffrey. "And you will not be able to reach them before my fetchers do."

"You're lying," said Hector.

"How do you think I know who your friends are? Everything Nathan knew, I know. And Micah. And Samuel. Everyone I have taken has provided me with a wealth of knowledge."

Sheryl flinched. "Nathan and Micah? What's he talking about?"

Geoffrey ignored her. "I have learned some delightful things about you, Hector. And I would quite like to share. So please. Let us not drag this out any further. Come to the teacher's lounge."

"Stop attacking people, and I will."

"Oh, very well. But bring Sheryl with you."

"No. Let her go."

"Honestly, Hector. Even if I agreed to do that, would you actually trust me to follow through? I would like to see her reactions, as well, so just make this easy and bring her with you. Refuse, and Ms. Trent will be dead before you get here."

Hector scowled. "Fine."

"Excellent. Follow me."

They started walking, Jenny's lifeless body leading the way.

"Hector," Sheryl whispered. "What happened to Nathan and Micah?"

He couldn't answer that. He couldn't even look at her.

"A-are they... dead?"

His silence was answer enough.

"Oh, goddess...!" She started shaking even more violently than before.

"I..." He had to say it with confidence or she wouldn't believe him. And he needed her to believe him. "I won't let that happen to you."

Geoffrey overheard. "Oh, Hector. Don't lie to the poor girl."

"Shut the fuck up."

They soon arrived. Jenny entered first and joined Geoffrey by his side.

As soon as he saw the aberration's face--his father's face--Hector had to hold himself back. The urge to attack immediately was so strong that it made every muscle in his body go taut. If it hadn't been for Sheryl's presence, for the notion that her safety trumped killing Geoffrey, then the fight would have already begun.

"You are bleeding," Geoffrey observed. "Why have you not healed yet?"

He could hardly feel the wound on his arm, even though he was sure that it must've been throbbing like crazy. But instead of answering Geoffrey's question, Hector chose to reassess the situation. Ms. Trent was pinned to the wall, covered from neck to toe in crimson shadow. Her mouth was covered, but according to her wide, panicked eyes, she was still herself.

Geoffrey smirked after a moment. "You have always been a difficult person to read, haven't you? Even your father--well, your previous father--even he never really felt like he understood you. But then, he did not take a very active role in your life, did he? I am honestly curious as to what you thought of him. The whole reason I took his body was because I thought the two of you were close, but according to his memories, that does not seem to be the case. And yes, I know I said we should not drag things out, but I think we need to have a nice father-son chat before we finally settle matters here. Don't you?"

Hector had no intention of responding. All he wanted was an opening.

"Ever the quiet one. Hmm. Then perhaps you will be interested in what I have to say. For instance, did you know that your father suffered from quite vivid hallucinations? Your parents never told you, right?"

Hector felt the fury bubbling up to the surface again. He didn't even try to put it into words. That was probably what Geoffrey wanted him to do.

Geoffrey just kept talking. "They could be quite scary, these hallucinations. One time, when you were just a baby, he saw a bomb. Strange, right? Just this simple canister with a digital timer on it--very obviously reminiscent of his days spent defusing such things, not that he ever told you about that, either. The point, however, is that not only was it not a bomb, but it was actually you!" Geoffrey laughed. "He almost threw you out of a window! If you hadn't started crying, he might not have snapped out of it in time. And he never told your mother about it."

"...Why are you doing all this?" Hector finally asked. "Why do you enjoy seeing people suffer?"

"Hold on, I'm not finished with my story. See, your father used this condition of his as an excuse to keep you at arm's length, under the pretense that he was afraid of hurting you or some such nonsense. He convinced himself that this was the case. But really, the truth of the matter--the thing he would never admit--was that you simply did not interest him. Because he didn't love you. Isn't that something?"

Hector's chest trembled. "...Why would I believe anything you say?"

"Because it's so surprising! I may not be human, but even I know what love feels like. And your father never felt it. Well, not for you, at least. Your mother, sure. He was fiercely in love with her. But you. You were always just. Sort of. There."

Hector fell silent again. He tried to think. How to save Ms. Trent. How to keep Sheryl safe. Anger got in the way of every burgeoning idea.

"So that is why I'm curious. Was this mutual? Did I just waste my time? Or did you actually love him?" He laughed again. "Or maybe you hated him! Perhaps I did you a favor in killing him! How fantastic would that be?!"

Hector turned his head toward Sheryl, just enough so that he could still keep an eye on Geoffrey. "Please," he whispered to her, "move to the corner there..."

"W-why?"

"I don't want anyone sneaking up behind you while I'm... distracted..."

Sheryl nodded, and Hector stayed in front of her while they repositioned themselves away from the open door.

"Still refusing to answer me, I see," said Geoffrey. "I will take that to mean you really did love your father, after all. Honestly, though, I cannot understand why. You know what the funniest thing is? I actually care more about you than he did." He grinned with Samuel's face. "And of course, I will be a much more attentive father."

Hector clapped his hands together, and a wall of iron sprung up between him and Sheryl, as thick as he could make it from floor to ceiling. He took a step forward and then added a second layer, just as broad as the first.

"Ha. She will suffocate in there, you know."

"You'd slip through any air holes."

"I will just have to break it down, then." The red shade shot toward him.

Hector made a shield--a crude slab of metal over his arm--and the shadow splashed against it, spraying outward before swirling around to Hector's backside. He slashed with a focused dagger, but more red was already on the way. Within seconds, it had him entirely enveloped.

The shadow faltered against the iron wall, however, cutting into it but not nearly deep enough. "Eh. Too much hassle. I am not interested in Sheryl, anyway."

Hector struggled, but without his undead strength, he couldn't even move.

Ms. Trent popped off the wall, suspended in midair. "How about a bargain?" said Geoffrey. "Tell your reaper to show himself, and I will allow this woman to live."

Hector coated his own body, focusing the iron with his soul. From his chest, a metal spike tore through the red shade, but a moment later, the shadow cut it off and filled the hole back in. He could feel it tightening around his body, digging through metal and scratching his flesh.

"How dull," said Geoffrey. "I am so much stronger than you now. But we both know that killing you alone is useless. So come on. Bring your reaper here."

"I can't," he said through clenched teeth.

"You would let this poor woman die to protect someone who is already dead?"

"No... I mean I can't contact him right now."

Geoffrey frowned. "Oh. Well, that is unfortunate. Perhaps we will try again later, then."

Hector tensed, knowing that wasn't all.

"I have had quite enough of waiting, however, so this teacher of yours will have to die in the meantime."

"No!" He thrashed, creating metal frantically, fighting vainly with the red again. "Don't you dare hurt her!"

"Then stop me," said Geoffrey. "Give me a real fight, at least. Amuse me. Fail, and this will not end with Ms. Trent. When we are done here, we will go visit your mother at work and try again. Hopefully, your reaper will be ready by then."

He needed more. Burdened under panic, he could barely keep focus. This feeling, this desperation, he knew it well. He just had to make that same mental leap again. So why was it taking him so long? Why wouldn't it just fucking work already? So many people had died. This stupid metal power. It had to evolve again. There was no other option. With every ounce of pressure in his mind, he demanded more. A growling scream exploded out of his mouth. His throat shredded itself.

And finally. He felt it there. The response.

A metal coat enveloped Hector in a flash. Massive spikes shot out all over his body, ripping dozens of holes into the shadow.

The lacerated crimson sunk back to Geoffrey, and he recoiled away from Hector. The shadow retained its grip on Ms. Trent, however, pulling her closer to his body. He started laughing as he looked at Hector. "Well done! But now I have to kill your teacher, of course."

Ms. Trent let out a muffled scream as the red tightened around her. And then the metal coat was there for her as well. Unlike Hector's, the spikes around Ms. Trent could not tear the shadow. Instead, they merely pushed it out, like taffy stretched across a bed of needles.

Geoffrey's brow lowered. "Now that is just unfair."

Hector had to annihilate his own coating in order to move again, but he kept iron around his chest, shins, and forearms. He put a gloved fist out to his side, and it shook as he concentrated on what he wanted. Around the fist grew fresh metal, but it did not stop with mere coating. It extended out, half a meter, until it reached a sharpened tip, and suddenly, instead of a right hand, he had a thick blade--a full sword with crude, jagged edges. It was heavy, weighing his arm down at first, but adrenaline helped him lift it.

He ran forward, sword held wide, and met the next wave of red with a spiked shield. He tore a path toward Geoffrey, who backed away; and instead of pursuing, Hector diverted toward Ms. Trent and slashed clean through the shadow. Her spiked cage clattered heavily to the floor as the shade retreated to Geoffrey. He freed the teacher from her metal bindings. She rolled over on the floor, gasping for breath.

"Aha, wow! How scary!" And a brief silence fell as the sound of nearby sirens filled the room. Geoffrey's grin only broadened. "I think we need some more playmates." He fled into the hallway with Jenny.

Hector freed Sheryl, told her to barricade the door, and then gave chase.

#  ~Ch. 31~

# 'The dance of shade and darkness...'

Hector had to destroy his metal. It only weighed him down, and Geoffrey was already faster, able to ride the red shadow like a wave through the corridors while carrying Jenny at his side.

They reached the school's front entrance, and Geoffrey did not hesitate to rush through the sliding doors to meet the police force there.

Still inside, Hector could see the officers scrambling for their firearms at the sight of Geoffrey's red mass. Their bullets would do nothing, of course. He had to protect them.

Hector slapped the tiled floor with his hand, and an iron wall shot up in front of Geoffrey, curving over his head like an immobile tidal wave. Cut off from the policemen, Geoffrey tried to circumvent the wall, but Hector kept adding to it until the metal met the school's pale brick. And abruptly, there was nowhere for the aberration left to go, except through Hector.

Geoffrey returned to the entryway, Jenny at the shadow's heels.

Hector reforged his sword and shield.

"Always trying to spoil other people's fun," said Geoffrey. "I thought I raised you better than that." Metal promptly clapped around his face, which the shade immediately burst through; but when Geoffrey could see again, Hector was nearly on top of him. The sword barreled toward Geoffrey's chest. He dodged but not completely.

Hector's blade caught the side of Geoffrey's ribcage, taking flesh with it. The reds mixed, blood and shadow confused.

Geoffrey slinked back and sicced Jenny on him, but Hector encased her in iron before she even took three steps. The red shadow lunged again, breaking upon Hector's shield before being slashed apart by the sword.

"This is not very fun," Geoffrey complained. "I don't think you are being very--" He had to stop and flee when he saw that Hector was not going to wait for him to finish talking.

Before Geoffrey could reach the west hall, a metal wall appeared in his path. He leapt away from Hector's sword, bounding over the reception desk and rushing for the east hall, but another sudden barrier cut him off. Even the chamber's windows clapped shut with iron.

"I see you are determined to end this now." Geoffrey swerved out of Hector's reach. "Then I might as well oblige." Metal blocked his vision again, but Geoffrey was prepared. The shadow tore it off while two other streaks shot toward Hector from separate directions.

Hector rolled to the side and took one streak with his shield. The other swirled back around, and he slashed horizontally but missed. The shade caught him under the arm. He had a thin coat of metal there, but the impact still knocked him off his feet, and he felt a rib snap. The shadow coiled around his torso, making him groan as it tightened, and he could see several more red snakes gunning for him.

He again resorted to full defense. Spikes jutted out all across his body, reaching even farther than before and shredding every shadow that got too close. He could hear Geoffrey snickering as they shrunk back to him.

"Good! Don't make it too easy for me!" The shadow spread out around him, gathering into a swirling cluster like some sort of hydra. He sent them all at once.

Hector made a wall in front of himself. The shadows slammed into it, leaving dents and pushing the whole mass of iron backward. Scowling against the wall, Hector slapped his hand on the largest dent. A pillar shot out from the other side and tore a path straight through the red.

Geoffrey avoided it easily enough and then circled around to Hector's side.

The problem was Geoffrey's mobility, Hector knew. A mere iron coating had proved useless, but thick barriers had not, so that was what he went for when he saw more red snakes reaching for him. And with another wall in the way, he couldn't see Geoffrey, but he didn't need to. He only wanted to limit the aberration's options. He steadily placed more barriers around the room, soon creating a small maze, and each time the shadows managed to find him again, he hacked them down.

"I see what you are trying to do!" Geoffrey said from beyond a wall. "It will not work!" An iron pillar shot out at him, and he narrowly slid out of the way, going right. Another pillar appeared, this time blocking the path rather than attacking, and Geoffrey ducked under it, only to find still another metal beam there. He turned around, and abruptly, Hector was at his side, replacing the wall that stood there a moment ago.

Geoffrey reeled back and barely avoided the sword. "You will trap yourself before you trap me," he said, bringing his shadows to bear. A red cluster whirled at his side, forming a spinning drill. It dug into the wall next to him, expanding the hole quickly.

Hector had a different set of shadows to contend with. While ripping through them, he merely tried to keep Geoffrey in sight, eliminating walls as he ran and making new ones for Geoffrey to tunnel through.

"You will grow tired before I do, you know!"

Hector slipped an extra wall in--not in Geoffrey's path, but rather just beside it, seemingly unworthy of attention. And when their chase made a complete circle, Hector was ready. He pulled his fist to his shoulder, and an iron block popped out of the wall as Geoffrey passed. It shoved him straight toward Hector.

Geoffrey's eyes widened as he watched the sword close in, as he realized that he didn't have his balance, that he couldn't dodge this one. Shadows rushed to his defense. They might as well have been paper.

Hector gored him through the stomach.

Geoffrey was not smiling. Dumbstruck, he tried to speak and only coughed up blood. His shadows all shuddered as Hector ripped the sword back out, taking flesh with it. Geoffrey staggered back.

Hector stared at his work, still tensed to the point of trembling. He almost couldn't believe his eyes.

"How careless..." Geoffrey's shadow caught him stumbling and propped him up. "This body is already done for..."

Hector raised three walls around the aberration, boxing him in. Only the space between the two of them was left open.

Geoffrey spared a glance at the walls. "Ha... you wouldn't be willing to let me find a new body, would you?" A red cloud poured out of Geoffrey's face.

Hector cleaved it in two.

The red shriveled and shrunk back to him, making Geoffrey spasm violently. And even now, he still managed a bloody grin. "Damn... I wanted to see my power grow more. Desmond--" He stopped to hack up more blood. "Desmond told me--he said... that one day, I would be able to turn my slaves into monsters. I was really looking forward to that, you know..."

It was nearly done, Hector knew. Geoffrey was down. The shadow was contained. He wasn't sure if aberrations could die from blood loss like normal humans, but didn't intend to wait that long. And yet, the sight of his father's body, his father's face--it made him hesitant. And even though he knew it had to be done, a small part of him didn't want to deal the finishing blow.

"You bastard," said Geoffrey. "Are you not even going to say anything? After everything we have been through together?"

He had no desire to respond. It seemed too respectful.

Geoffrey gave a hoarse laugh. "What if I told you... that I wouldn't hurt anyone anymore? In fact, what if I even agreed to help you? I would... I would listen to you--do anything you say."

Hector's eyes bulged, and his mouth twisted beneath the helm. He could hardly believe how much those words angered him. He'd tried to remain calm throughout the fight, to not let anything Geoffrey said get to him, but this--this was ridiculous. An appeal to his better nature? As if there was anything which could convince him. After all the murders. All the lives destroyed. All the families.

The motherfucking arrogance.

Rage came rushing back to him, blindingly strong. He almost couldn't even hear Geoffrey's next words.

"If you just--kagh--just spared my life... I would do that. Yeah? What do you say?"

"Fuck no." Hector raised the wall between them, completing the box. He touched the metal with both hands. He could hear Geoffrey shouting from inside.

Hector skewered the box with a dozen metal pillars, all focused with his soul. Geoffrey's agonized cries still rang out. He added a dozen more. The noise stopped.

He opened the wall. There lay Geoffrey. A crumpled heap with metal bars stuck through it, piercing the chest, neck, skull, stomach, every limb multiple times. The last bit of red shadow shriveled up and evaporated into nothingness.

He stared at the body, waiting, half-expecting it to spring back to life and attack him again. He kept waiting.

Geoffrey was dead. Finally.

Hector breathed. He could only feel so relieved, however. This was not just the proof of Geoffrey's death. It was also the proof of his father's. And as that sunk in, as the urgency and adrenaline of battle wore off, Hector slowly broke down.

Hector destroyed the metal around his father's body and dropped to the floor, unable even to stand. He was exhausted and in pain and nothing made sense. Nothing, except for the fact that everything hurt.

The weight of it all washed over him--a series of horrible waves. His father. His friends. His home. His school. Everything that was supposed to be normal about his life. Everything that was supposed to be safe. He couldn't think of a single thing that had not been destroyed. Obliterated.

He wept. He didn't know what else to do. His brain felt numb. He couldn't sort anything out.

'Garovel?' he tried. 'Are you back yet...? Please be back...' He waited for a response but received none. He sighed. 'I could really use your advice right now...'

At length, he remembered Sheryl and Ms. Trent. If nothing else, he could at least go check on them. Maybe he could figure out what to do after that.

Groaning, covered in blood, and clutching his ribcage, Hector struggled to his feet again.

#  ~Ch. 32~

# 'Steadfast heart, expect not refuge...'

Hector kept his helm on in front of the ladies. Even if it was splattered with blood, he still preferred that to revealing his haggard, tear-stricken face. He honestly wasn't sure he would be able to talk to them right now without something to hide behind.

"So it's safe now?" Sheryl asked. "It's r-really safe? You're sure?"

"Yeah..."

Sheryl seemed reluctant with her relief. "And the police--where are they?"

"Out front," he said. "I'll take you to them."

"N-no," she said, backing away. "I'll go on my own. It's safe, right?"

"Y-yeah, it is..."

"Don't get me wrong," said Sheryl. "I'm grateful. You saved me. But. But you. Please, just--just stay away from me from now on. I don't--I mean--please..."

Hector frowned beneath his helm. He tried to extend a hand toward her, but she flinched.

"No, please! This is all just too much! I don't want anything to do with you!" She ran away from him. "I'm sorry!"

He watched her go. He couldn't really blame her. He was the reason she was in danger to begin with. It was probably better this way, honestly. He just wished it didn't feel so awful.

"She's just traumatized," said Ms. Trent. "Give her some time."

He doubted time would make much difference. He looked at his teacher.

Small cuts riddled her face. Her hair and clothes were all a mess. She didn't look any less traumatized than Sheryl, really.

"H-how are you feeling?" he asked her.

"Alive. Thanks to you."

"Don't be too grateful. I... I'm the reason he was trying to kill you..."

"I don't understand," she said as they began walking. "What was he trying to accomplish, exactly? That was your father, wasn't it?"

"That thing was not my dad. It was... a monster. It killed him and took his body..."

She hesitated. "I wish I couldn't believe you. But after... well... I'm not about to doubt your word."

"It was trying to... hurt me, I guess..." He took a quiet breath. "It's dead now, but... it sure as hell succeeded..."

"Why did it want to hurt you? Because you're the Darksteel Soldier?"

Hector paused at that. "...The what?"

"Oh, come on. I've seen the news. A young, black male in a metal helmet, terrorizing criminals around the city. You can't tell me that's some other guy."

"Yeah, o-okay, that's me, but... the Darksteel Soldier?"

"Isn't that what you call yourself?"

"Uh... no..."

"Well, that's what they're calling you. You didn't know?"

"I, uh... I haven't really... been paying attention to the news lately..."

"Hmm." Ms. Trent eyed him again. "I started seeing the reports a couple weeks ago, and I had my suspicions about you, y'know. I remembered that helmet you made. And you'd been missing a lot of club meetings. But still. I didn't really think it could be you. You're just. So..."

"Y-yeah, I know... I'm still surprised, myself..."

"Never can tell with the quiet ones, I suppose."

For both their sakes, Hector avoided hallways that he knew would have dead bodies, but they still had to pass his group of four metal statues from earlier. Ms. Trent looked directly at them, and then at him, but she did not ask the obvious question. Perhaps she already knew all she wanted to.

He escorted Ms. Trent out to the side parking lot, where he'd left his motorcycle, and found a large crowd of students and police officers. He was quietly relieved to see that so many people had made it out safely.

A sudden shriek drew his attention, and he saw a group of students pointing at him from behind the line of police officers.

"That's him!" one girl shouted. "I saw him kill someone!"

"Just look at him! He's covered in blood!"

"He killed that boy in the bathroom!"

The police pulled out tasers and started toward him, all seven of them at once.

"No!" yelled Ms. Trent. "He's not the murderer! He protected us!"

The officers exchanged uncertain glances but still persisted. "Please come with us," said the closest one. "We just need to sort all this out."

Hector looked over the crowd another time, across a myriad of angry and terrified faces. He could also see the motorcycle laying on the sidewalk, no more than five meters away from him. Suddenly, he had a decision to make.

Now more than ever, he wished Garovel were here.

Hector took a long, tired breath. Fleeing from the police right now seemed exhausting. He almost let them arrest him on that impulse alone. But he had not forgotten. He'd killed several "people" today. And explaining that to the police seemed not only tiresome but downright impossible.

He would have liked more time to deliberate, but the cops didn't look prepared to oblige. So he turned their tasers into metal bricks and ran for the bike during the confusion. Ms. Trent yelled something after him, but he couldn't hear what it was.

One of the officers ran toward him with a nightstick as he started the bike. Hector raised a wall before the man reached him, and then peeled off the sidewalk. He circled wide around the crowd, hugging the edge of the parking lot until he found the road.

An unpleasant surprise was waiting for him, however. He passed under a police chopper, and when he looked back, he saw it turning around to pursue him.

He returned wide eyes to the road ahead. "How the fuck do I lose a helicopter?!"

He didn't even know where he was going. It wasn't like he could just go back to his house. And after a few minutes, he heard more sirens and saw flashing lights in his rearview mirror. The police must have also been clearing the streets ahead of him, because traffic soon became nonexistent--which was helpful insofar as ensuring he didn't crash into anyone, but he figured it also meant they'd set up road blocks for him.

Sure enough, within a matter of minutes, he spotted a police barricade dead ahead. Four massive trucks filled the street and sidewalks, lights flashing with uniformed officers waiting, weapons drawn.

He only had one idea. And it felt like one of the stupidest things he'd ever thought of.

He wanted a bridge, one that would go above the police trucks and then back down. But he had never created such a thing before. He had never materialized an actual structure, let alone one that needed to support the force of a motorcycle hurtling uphill at 150 km/h.

But he did his best, creating iron steadily ahead of the speeding bike. He made it extra wide, expecting the tires to lose traction against the metal, and then he ramped it up, perhaps a bit too steeply as he felt the bike jolt. And as he climbed and the metal began to buckle, he added crisscrossing support beams.

The bridge sagged as he passed over the blockade. He was too afraid to give it proper support, not wanting to accidentally skewer one of the cops below on a sudden pillar. But he reached the other side quickly enough and tried to give it beams again; only, it was too steep now, and the tires started sliding. The bridge crumpled behind him as well, and he annihilated it before it crushed someone.

The bike hit the road, front tire first, and for a second, he thought it would flip over, but then the rear tire met pavement, and he found his balance again. The engine started grinding as he sped away.

He soon saw cars on the road again and had to slow down. Then he noticed an upcoming traffic jam. And the sheer number of pedestrians meant that mounting the curb was also out of the question. He could try to slip between stopped cars with the motorcycle, but he wasn't entirely sure it would fit. Instead, he decided to stop altogether, turning the front tire and placing one foot on asphalt as he looked back toward the helicopter.

The chopper was certainly persistent. Clearly, as long as it remained in pursuit, police cars would keep finding him. If he couldn't flee from it, then he needed to neutralize it--without harming whoever was inside, of course.

Hector waited for the helicopter to draw closer. Then he attached four metal pillars to its landing skids and looped the other ends around separate streetlights. He added a fifth to the tail and attached it to a fire hydrant. He turned the bike around and rode off in a different direction, this time without his pursuer.

He just went straight. He didn't know what else to do. The more he tried to think, the worse he felt. After a while, he ran out of city. He kept going.

Barren grasslands filled the horizon, save the occasional rise of boulders. He pulled into the road's shoulder, then into the grass and dirt, and finally stopped next to a cluster of rocks.

And it was finally quiet. He finally had space to breathe. To think. He got off the bike. He pulled off the helm and let it drop from his fingers while he looked out, Brighton in the distance.

He collapsed. Unconsciousness embraced him then and there.

When he awoke, his face was in the dirt. Blue sky and white clouds greeted him. The sun had only just begun to wane.

Hector shut his eyes. '...Garovel?'

'Hector! Where are you?! What the fuck happened?!'

He started sobbing.

#  ~Ch. 33~

# 'O, solemn child...'

For a time, he couldn't even respond.

'Hector?! I... I went to the house, and I saw Geoffrey's body. And Nathan's. And. I checked the school and--I... Hector, talk to me.'

'Everything went wrong, Garovel... everything is... it's all... I can't...'

'Okay, just tell me where you are first,' said Garovel.

'I don't really, uh... I think I went south...'

'You gotta give me more to go on, Hector.'

'I'll... I'll make you a guidepost.'

'What do you mean?'

Hector stretched his arms. He took a hard breath and rubbed his hands together. 'Fly up high and look south.'

'Er, okay...'

He placed both hands against the ground. A metal beam exploded out of the ground in front of him. He continuously added to it, wider and wider layers at its base, and soon, he had created the tallest needle he'd ever seen. 'Do you see it?'

'Um. See what?'

Hector furrowed his brow. He took a step back and added even more. It shot up into the sky, becoming a tower.

'Holy shit,' said Garovel. 'You didn't just... Did you really just make that gigantic needle there?'

'Yeah...'

'Oh, wow... I'm on my way. Now what the hell happened?'

Hector still wasn't sure where to begin. He closed his eyes and tried to think. 'The cellphone,' he thought. 'The text messages... they were a trap. By Geoffrey.'

'Not sure I understand...'

Hector elaborated at length. He told the reaper everything. He fumbled over the worst parts. His father. Nathan. Micah. At least a dozen students. His throat swelled up as he talked further. He was practically choking by the end.

And Garovel listened patiently to it all. Perhaps too patiently. The reaper hardly said anything. His skeletal face spoke of abject horror. Evening arrived by the time Garovel spoke again. 'How could...? I was only gone for three hours... three-and-a-half, at the most...'

Hector leaned against a tall rock and rubbed his swollen eyes. "What do we do now, Garovel? I'm just... I'm so fucking lost..."

For a long while, Garovel had no answer to that. But then he said something that made Hector stare. '...Who still needs you?'

"I..." His gaze hardened and fell to the ground. "I have to go find my mom."

'Hector, I'm not sure that's a good idea.'

He looked up with a furrowed brow. "Why not?"

'I visited the police station while I was looking for you. I saw your mother there. She was very distraught and confused, but she... agh, I'm not even sure how to put this...'

"Just say it."

Garovel eyed him heavily. 'When I saw her, she was under the impression that you murdered your father. I don't think she wants to see you.'

"The cops told her that I...?" He sighed. "Of course they did..."

'I'm sorry.'

"But..."

'Hector. I think it's time we left Brighton behind.'

He was silent at that.

'Your life here... it's been destroyed. Between the crime scene at your house and the crime scene at your school, the police have pieced together your identity. I saw them in the station. They're not just hunting for some guy in a metal mask. They're hunting for Hector Goffe.'

"I can't just leave my mother behind..."

'Hector...'

"I'm all she has left, Garovel. I have to... try to... make her understand... somehow..." His expression searched for the right words. "I have to see her again. I just. I have to..."

The reaper floated around him. 'You are easily the most wanted person in the city. Going back there right now is--'

"Do you know where she is?"

The reaper was hesitant to answer.

"Garovel, don't lie to me..."

'Yes. I do know. She's in a hotel with a police detail.'

"Take me to her."

'What if you can't convince her?'

"I don't know. But I'm not leaving without trying."

'And what if you do convince her? What difference will that make? You'll still be wanted for murder.'

Hector's expression faltered. He shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "She... I... I've never been sure if she actually, um... if she actually cared about me. But... I've always known that she loved my dad. The two of them were--" He shook his head. "--They tried really hard to stay together. Their entire lives revolved around one another. And... now..."

Garovel frowned.

"Mom doesn't have any siblings. And her parents died years ago. So I'm... I mean... I think I'm the only family she has left..."

'You don't want to abandon her. I understand. But even still--'

"It's not just that. I... I get that we shouldn't stay. I do. School is... I can't just... go back there... and I can't go home, either... But I don't want her to think that I... that I... did all those horrible things... If she thinks I killed Dad, then... agh..." He sighed.

'You want a proper goodbye.'

"Y-yeah..."

Garovel was briefly quiet. 'I still think it's a bad idea. But alright. I'll take you to her.'

"Thank you."

Hector destroyed the needle tower, and once night fell, Garovel guided him back into the city. They stopped by the cemetery along the way and picked up the five remaining bags of money. There wasn't much room on the bike, so Hector dropped four of them on the steps of the nearby police precinct. He tried to keep to the shadows as much as possible, prepared to flee again if someone spotted him, but no one did.

They arrived at the hotel next. It stood fifteen stories tall and had no balconies to climb.

'Her room is on the seventh floor,' said Garovel. 'There are four cops in the adjacent rooms and two more in the lobby. If you go through the front door, you'll alert them and have to fight your way to her. So please don't do that.'

Without his helm, he scratched his head. He looked up at the building from the rear parking lot, crouching behind a dumpster. "Can I scale the wall?"

'Maybe. I think a seven-story platform would be quieter, though. Just let me scout the area for prying eyes, first.'

"Okay..."

After a spell, Garovel returned and showed him the exact spot to stand. He created a broad pillar below his feet, raising himself to the window of the reaper's designation. It was shut, of course, and locked as well, but he could see the tiny latch that he needed to move. He pressed a hand to the glass and made a small pillar on the other side, starting from the windowsill, then growing out and pushing against the latch. He heard the shunk, pulled the bug screen off, and slipped inside, disintegrating his metal.

His mother was in the bathroom. He could hear her crying.

He sat on the end of the bed and waited for her.

A hundred thoughts swirled through his mind. He still wasn't sure how to explain everything to her. The truth sounded so ridiculous, but it seemed like the only thing that could vindicate him. And then he just started recounting everything in his head. By the time she came out of the bathroom, Hector was crying again.

Vanessa Goffe stared at him, her own eyes still puffy and red. She looked like she didn't know whether she wanted to scream or not.

Hector just went for it. "I didn't kill Dad."

She did not react.

He tried again. "I didn't kill him. Mom, you have to believe me. I would never hurt him. Or you. I... I w-wouldn't..."

Her face was tear-streaked stone, now. "What do you want from me?" was all she asked.

"I just..." He grit his teeth, angry with himself. Now was not the time to struggle for the right words. "I want to explain what happened... and... and..."

"Explain, then," she said. "Why do the police think you killed Samuel?"

"Because... uh..." He looked at the floor. 'Garovel, help me...'

'You didn't kill him, but someone made it look like you did.'

He gave a tiny nod and glanced up at his mother again. "Someone made it look like I did it..."

She merely listened.

"S-someone came to the house... after you left for work... and... they took Dad h-hostage and... brought him to my school... which was where he was... killed..."

"Why would they do that?" Her voice trembled. "Who were they?"

"A lunatic... His name was Geoffrey Rofal."

"You knew this person?"

He cringed at the question.

'Don't lie about being a vigilante. She already knows. The police told her.'

"Geoffrey was a... he was a criminal... he and I fought before... a-and, ah... he, uh--"

"During one of your outings, is that it?" Her anger showed through now. "One of your little adventures fighting crime, right? It came back to bite us. You went and got involved in something you shouldn't, and now your father is dead because of it. My husband..." She breathed hard. "Because of you! You got him killed, didn't you?! That's what happened, isn't it?!"

Hector couldn't look at her.

"Answer me! You didn't kill him yourself, but you're still responsible for it, aren't you?! Well?! Just tell me!"

"...Y-y-yes. I... I'm..."

'Hector, please. It's not your fault. Don't let her convince you that it is. That won't help anyone.'

There came a knock at the door. "Ma'am, is everything alright in there?"

Vanessa settled her breathing. She looked at the door, then back at Hector.

He could see her considering what to do. He stood, preparing to run as her gaze lingered on him.

She answered the door.

Hector was surprised when she didn't ask the officers to enter and arrest him. He watched her block the doorway so they didn't spot him, watched her reassure them of her safety, watched her close the door behind her. He couldn't understand what she was thinking. "Mom--"

She held a hand up. It clenched into a fist. She put her knuckles to her mouth and closed her eyes. "Just. Go."

"But... please, just listen--"

She glared at him, furious tears in her eyes. "I don't care what your reasons were," she said shakily. "I don't even care how you got in here. Just leave. And don't come back. I don't ever want to see you again."

His face cracked. "Y-you, you don't mean that..."

"Get out."

"Mom, please...!"

"Don't test me, Hector. If you don't leave right now, I will turn you in."

'Do as she says,' said Garovel. 'Just for now, that is.'

He slowly backed away.

'We'll see her again, Hector. It might be a long time, but we'll visit her and sort all this out, one day. I promise. I'm sure she'll be ready to listen then.'

Hector wasn't sure he believed the reaper, but he sure wanted to. He stopped in front of the open window and looked at her one last time. "I love you, Mom..." And he jumped out the window.

He raised a pillar up from the parking lot and gave it a sloped edge, expanding it out into a gigantic slide. His landing was a rough tumble, and Garovel started healing his broken leg as he limped the rest of the way to the motorcycle.

'You're doing the right thing,' Garovel told him.

Hector made no response. He still wanted to cry, but the tears had stopped falling a while ago. As he mounted the bike, he pulled out his phone and looked for Colt's number.

End of Volume One
Thanks for reading

The entire story is available to read online at http://thezombieknight.blogspot.com. That's what this story is: an ongoing serial novel. As of January 2017, I'm currently updating it in small but frequent chunks (10 or more times per week, usually). There are also extra materials to browse on the site, such as more maps, a big character list, and so forth.

Again, thank you for reading. I hope you've enjoyed the story so far. I have a very long vision for it, and I intend to keep writing it for many years to come.
