Death's Apprentice

17

As it turned out, Death's idea of planning a murder was to not plan a murder.

We stood outside a small town, nestled in the foothills of a large mountain range. I leaned against a fence post, ignoring the sheep that fled from our prescence.

"Is this where she lives? Being honest, not where I thought an immortal would choose to stay," I said, enjoying the sound of the world around me.

"Old places tend to attract immortals. There's so much energy in the land, it helps clear the mind." Death messed with his gloves, before picking up my scythe. "And it comes with the added benefit of making it easier to hide from me."

I looked down into the valley. The houses stood further apart than I expected, with a few surrounded by fields. Picturesque barns and silos sat side by side, with herds of cattle, sheep, and goats around them. Those were accompanied by older, dilapidated versions, often stripped of paint and left to the elements. The gray wood stood stark against the green pastures. The loud bray of a donkey cut through the air.

My arms rested on top of the post I had been leaning against, and I rested my chin on them. "So where's she at?"

"Probably at the historical society if her habits have kept. Kid, whatever happens with her you need to be careful."

I looked at Death. "Why?"

"They can't hurt you the same way Life can, but they can see you. They can touch you."

"Faye could see me."

"Because I let her. We can pick and choose who sees us, but we don't have a choice with the immortals. Life cleared the fog from their minds." He crossed his arms, tapping his fingers against his bicep. "The haze that conceals the true world from mortals, it's the same stuff that dulls sounds from their world, the same stuff that eats away at mortals' memories. They remember every move I've made better than I do. This isn't going to be easy, kid."

"I never said it was going to be. Besides, they've never met me. If it comes down to it, I can try to use the arm thingies."

"I told you the names of those."

"Yeah, but arm thingies is easier to say."

"Let's- Let's not use those until we understand why you have them, okay?" He smiled at me. It didn't reach his eyes.

Regardless, I nodded and followed him as he headed into town. The main streets were paved; dirt and gravel roads branched off from those. It was along one of these muddy dirt roads that the historical society was located.

A bell chimed as we walked in. Display cases stretched from wall to wall. I walked along them, looking at the tools and family Bibles. One of the Holy Books, older than most of the others, was written in Greek, and some of the notes in the genealogy were in an older form of English.

The dates on the family tree placed this book back before the invention of the printing press.

"This book is ancient." I mumbled, scanning the names. Harper Evans stuck out to me, along with the name of her husband and child. The girl's name had a death date next to it, a few months after her birth.

"Her daughter was born immortal. I had to kill her before she got older," Death hit the desk bell.

"Hold on a moment!" A voice with a heavy British accent came from deeper within the maze-like room.

"Hold onto what?" I laughed quietly to myself.

The smile stayed on my face as a man in a sweater vest emerged into view. He placed the books he carried on a desk before pushing his glasses up.