The Reaper's Token

I Read Violet's Diary

Keith dropped me off on the corner of Hyde Street by Alice's apartment building. He gave an awkward wave before disappearing into a whirlwind of black dust. I paused for a moment, looking out onto the empty street before I turned and walked up the steps to Alice's apartment.

I was relieved I had somewhere to stay, even if Violet was prone to explosive, powdery tantrums. Didn't anyone ever tell that girl to 'use her words?' I sighed and knocked on the door. I waited (holding my breath) as the door swung open to Alice's beaming face.

"Well, come in, Dominic!" She said.

She pulled the door open wide as I slid in.

"Please take off your shoes, if you don't mind," Alice said.

Violet's snappy remark, "you'll track ghost into the house," instantly came back to me.

I pulled them off and shoved them into a corner as I scanned the living room and glanced toward the back bedrooms.

"Where's Violet?" I asked.

"Oh, probably out somewhere avenging her death." Alice shrugged.

"What?!" I blurted.

"Oh, yes. She does it quite often." Alice said. "She gets very busy with it, unfortunately."

"When do you think she will be back?" I asked.

"Oh, I expect she won't be home until dawn," Alice said. "Yes... it's a very bad habit, a very bad habit indeed. She goes off gallivanting for hours, trying to avenge her death. It's really very tiring." Alice sighed as she took a seat and started spreading open one of my pamphlets.

"Do you have anything to drink?" I asked.

"There is some orange juice in the fridge. I bought some while you were out." Alice said.

"Thanks, Alice," I said, trying to process the fact that Violet was avenging her death while I was struggling to satisfy my sudden craving for orange juice.

"So, this avenging her death... stuff," I said, pouring the O.J. into my glass. "What is she avenging exactly?"

"I think," Alice said thoughtfully, "that you should ask her that question yourself."

"Well, seeing as she blew up into a bunch of powder a few hours ago, I'm not sure that she will be in a sharing mood when she gets home." I took a sip of my juice and almost gagged on the dry, bitter taste.

"Sugar?" Alice asked.

I nodded as Alice slid the sugar bowl across the counter while she glanced over the pamphlet 'Your Partner and Your Link, How to Control them both!' I rolled my eyes as I took the teaspoon and dumped three helpings of sugar into my glass before taking a tentative sip.

"So, you won't share why Violet is running around San Francisco trying to avenge herself?" I asked. Alice found her coffee cup and her fingernails suddenly fascinating to look at.

"No," Alice said, slowly looking me in the eye. "It is not my story to tell, Dominic."

"If you could shed even a little bit of light, it may help us strengthen our connection," I said. I hoped that appealing to Alice's idea of team spirit might unlock her secrets.

"Violet has never been even remotely able to accept her death. She won't let her past die." Alice said sadly.

"I can kind of understand that," I said, taking another sip of orange juice as I reached up and rubbed a tender spot on my neck.

"Since Violet won't be back until dawn, would it be alright if I crashed in her room?" I asked.

"I suppose so," Alice sighed with a slight smile. "Make sure not to rummage through her things. She is very particular about that,"

"Cool," I said as I picked up my orange juice and made my way to Violet's bedroom.

I probably should have said something more coherent, but I felt so dead... pardon the pun. I felt like 100 pounds had just dropped onto my shoulders, and all I could think about was sleep.

I understood Keith's demeanor a little more as I walked into Violet's room.

The Christmas lights around her window glowed softly as I glanced at the new stack of papers and books that cluttered and lined the perimeter of her room. Her dresser was covered with tall stacks of Latin worksheets and textbooks. I set my glass of juice down on top of one of the lower stacks with a perplexed stare. I didn't touch her things, but I did look over them as I walked around piles of paper. I stumbled, then tripped over what looked like ten different maps of San Francisco. 'Why so many maps,' I wondered as I crash-landed onto her bed.

I rolled over and rested on top of something rectangular and hard. I sat up and pulled out a stack of crumpled papers and a short black notebook. As I dropped the books and papers to the floor, the notebook fell open. I moved to close it, but words caught my attention and stopped me. "I'm searching for a ghost... he's evasive... and watchful. He has taken my life from me and is still out there... waiting... for what???" I read.

I looked away. Reading more would be an invasion of privacy. I valued privacy. I really did.

I glanced back down into the book and couldn't help but read a short heading, "The Last Prophecy of the Seven Ages." The title alone held an ancient feeling. The writing that followed was indecipherable and in short rows like a poem. I let the prophecy drop from my fingers as I faded in and out of another fitful sleep.