Rising the Hell

Death at door

Lucille had a small cottage tucked in the woods behind the Mildrew mansion, She sat sipping hot coffee, her keen senses wandering around the woods. These days, nights seemed to be dragging, she had been on complete guard since she heard the odd behaviour of Mr. Mildrew. She was keeping an eye on the woman he married, so far she noticed nothing odd, she seemed flustered; she kept running with food, medicines between his room and kitchen cabinet. She answered patiently to the queries of servants saying that it was a contaminating disease and he was reviving day by day.

Lucille sneaked into the room one night; Mr. Mildrew was pale and tired. His brow was fused with sweat. He muttered incoherently, Lucille reached out and tentatively touched his frail fingers. His gaze slowly flitted to her side, his lips twitched into a light curve which she assumed as a smile.

“Lia…” he smiled, squeezing her hands.

He fell into a deep, unconscious sleep, his heart beating gently. Lucille checked for any unusual signs, she decided that he was truly suffering from a disease. Each day she would come and sit by him, gently stroking his hands, that small gesture was more than enough to comfort his old heart which was dying of lack of hope.

Even though his temperature went down, Mr. Mildrew was nothing like before; he looked 20 years older, his forehead was creased with lines, He was in need of constant support, his memory failed him and he became incoherent as days passed by. The young blonde took over the household and his business saying that he needed all the rest. Though she was never like the stepmothers, there was definitely something wrong in the way she treated the child. She watched over her like a dog, even the slightest twitch from her wouldn’t go unnoticed from those eagle like eyes. It was like she was waiting for something to happen.

Lia sat in the garden playing when she heard the rustle of branches, she thought that it was her friend Lucille but the scent that hit her was gloomy and filled with sorrow. She knew whoever it was he was different. She put up her best smile and scooped up her teddy and followed the sounds into the woods.

Lucille and Emma (young wife of Mr. Mildrew) could never forget that night, it was Lia’s 10th birthday, she raced into the room bursting to the doors carrying a bunch of flowers in her hand and a few in her skirt pockets. She went to her dad’s room which she never did, not without anyone. She hopped onto the bed, like a toothless fairy she smiled at her father and placed all the flowers on him to which Mr. Mildrew smiled weakly.  Emma stood in the corner watching her every move. The little Lia slipped her frail fingers into her father’s squeezed them and planted a kiss on his stubble and whispered ‘I love you.’

Tears trickled in his eyes; he drew her close into his arms and held his precious daughter dearly to his heart, all those years he spent planning on how he would take care of his child had never come true, they were his dreams that would forever be his dreams. He knew deep down that he was not going to be there to see his little princess turn into a fine young woman, or walk her down the aisle. He was not the father that a girl would want but still he hoped that Lia would carry a piece of his memory.

“You are going to a nice place… You’ll not suffer anymore and mom is waiting there for you…” She said smiling.

To this Mr. Mildrew smiled and patted his daughter affectionately, a fit of coughs hit him suddenly, he coughed blood and his whole body shook as they grew louder and louder. Emma was beside him in a second and dragged Lia away from him, safely depositing her away from any germs. She was too late by the time, she reached for his medicines. She pumped his chest a few seconds but to no avail.

Lucille was watching everything from the branches in the tree; she knew that he wasn’t going to make it. Tears strolled down her cheeks; she grew attached to this old man with whom she spend most of the afternoons, the way he looked at her imprinted her mind and burned her with his painful memories. He was a good father and faithful husband. 

She felt someone’s arms coiling around her tiny frame. She didn’t have to turn; she knew the musky scent quite well. He had been her constant companion in these long ten years, often dropping by to check on the kiddo as he would say. Lucile buried her head; she couldn’t see the old man's soul being taken away.

The messenger held her, cradling her and tucking strands of hair away from her face.

“Watch, kiddo…” he lifted her chin and pointed her in the direction of the room.

She didn’t want to. It was part of her job description to never get emotionally involved. Wasn’t it? She wasn’t a human to have all this stupid emotions, she wasn’t an emotional doll. She chided herself and cleared the moist in her eyes and looked at the room.

She flinched when she saw his life form being sucked out. The reaper was in there somewhere.

“Use your senses, kiddo…” He whispered.

She let go of all the emotions and concentrated on the aura of the room. She sensed the dominant and vibrant aura of Lia, then the flickering aura of the old man, dull aura of his wife and then she picked it, the death. She pinpointed its direction concentrating on his aura. He was standing at the post of the bed, if she was right.

“You’ll take care of him, won’t you?” Lia asked sternly.

At first Lucille thought that Lia was praying but she saw how her eyes were directed on the empty space where reaper must have stood. She watched in disbelief as the child gazed at him hoping to hear his word of honour. After a few minutes, her face brightened and she nodded.

Lucille head reeled. Can the child see the reaper? Or was she just hallucinating? How could she see a reaper? Even, the elite members of night world were not given the privilege of seeing the reapers. They were invisible forces even in their world.  The whole underworld was off limits for the nightlings just like the mortals. Before, she could seek conformation from them messenger about what she saw, he was gone ‘poof’.

Lucille cursed him for his timing; he was always there when she needed him but never when she needed answers. That night, she had yet another shocker. She saw the young wife nod in the direction of the reaper, she was damn sure that there was no way that she could see him but the nod was curt and sort of a signal. That was the first time she realized that the woman had a hidden aura, it flickered for a moment but Lucille grasped enough to say that it was strong and dark. Who was she? And how did Lucille mistake her as a mere human? How did her glamour manipulate the scrutiny of a guardian? These questions were never answered but Lucille knew someday, some way they would be answered.