Reapers - Thirteen Brothers

XXXVI - The Messenger

I met his eyes and nodded. "A few months ago. In front of the Thomases' house. Don't ask me how because I have no idea. At first, I thought you were cult people or something." I told him everything I saw that night. It seemed like a long, long time ago and I clutched on my knees, telling myself that there was no going back to that old life I used to have.

"The old man was near his expiration," he started after a minute of recall. "You know how it is. Wraiths getting attracted to the dying. But his case was different. An Elemental was leeching on him long before we'd discovered it. Elementals don't usually meddle with humans. So we went there and sort of exorcised the household. The man was old, but he still had a few days left in him."

I had heard of the Elementals in one of my sparring sessions with Rosario. When a Stray didn't crossover of a long period of time it will start to adapt, thus the change. The first possibility was for a soul to go bad and transform into a vicious wraith. Those who managed to partially retain their human form became Swarths while the other few who had remained pure and neutral lingered in the world of the living as part of nature—Elementals. They were usually the peaceful kind, blending in nature, taking on the form of trees, plants. Some into animals, like Byron Flynn and those fur balls Max took as familiars.

He let out a deep sigh, a distant look in his brown eyes. "Might've been fun too... growing old like that with someone you care about. Making you breakfast every morning. Watching TV with you every night. Having children and grandchildren," he said softly.

"Must be," I answered.

For a while, we sat there side by side, watching the snow flit slowly from the skies. How I wished it could last longer but I knew that was pushing what little luck I had left. So together, we went back into the mansion and dressed in our most decent clothing as if looking presentable in front of The Second could give me more life points.

While we were waiting, Amyr even joked that I should put some make-up on, look pretty and maybe do a lap dance for Irvine. Hopefully, he would be too stunned to kill us. He also suggested that we serve a banquet solely made by Mei. That way, there would be a big chance that Irvine would die of food poisoning. As usual, we just earned the biggest glaring ovation. People here were so tight they couldn't afford some sense of humor.

There was no use mulling it over. I was going to die and wanted to laugh my head off at the craziness of it all. And in that attempt, it seemed like Amyr was the only willing person to join me.

As we heard footsteps coming from the hallway, I knew I was done for. Irvine showed up just in time. In front of us, a boy about Vincent's age stood, flashing a bemused pair of pale metallic eyes which was a huge contrast to his closely cropped jet-black hair. As opposed to what I had expected, he was wearing a gray V-neck pullover, a pair of faded jeans and running shoes. No one told me it was casual Friday. The second he stepped into the drawing room, my heart seemed to stop as if I was having a heart attack. Laughing it off didn't sound so much fun anymore.

All the familiars—including me—stood up and bowed heads to show respect. I saw the rest of the guys step towards the back of Vladimir's chair and I copied them, standing beside where my master was seated. Without any attempt to exchange pleasantries, the brothers nodded at each other, unblinking for several moments.

"You know why I'm here," said Irvine in with a faint accent that I couldn't quite put my finger on. British but muddled. Russian or Mediterranean, perhaps. His blank expression was unchanging as with his smooth voice. He fished out a black envelope from his leather satchel and placed it on the new marble center table. "It's not my job to deliver messages but Father was worried Alexis might have too much on his workload. He's still... unstable."