Alive At Crepusculum ✓ [TPL Book One]

VII

Once the sisters held hands, the air shifted. A thin gray veil like a sheet draped over them. Mallord could feel something within him creek as if it were working on rusted hinges that needed oiling.

And then it began. Their souls left their bodies in a gust of wind. Through the roof the house, up to the sky, and none of them had time to gaze upon the beauty of the world littered with white glowing souls. Their bodies were thrust into an empty gray room. It was a place Mallord recognized. A memory locked up tight with his time in Lwendolen thirty years ago resurfaced. He could almost see a giant of a man calling for girl named Valerie.

"Richard," Belinda whispered and Mallord shook his head in the waking world to focus on the task ahead. He and the two Fox Sisters searched the gray, the in between of life and death for the soul of the man that plagued by a demon. Where was he? Could he still be saved from answering to the heinous orders of a demon, or were they all too late?

"Call with me," Belinda said to Mallord.

"Richard," he said, finding the feel of that name all too familiar on his tongue. He knew of a man with that name, but that was thirty years ago and the one they were looking for was young, according to Belinda.

Deep down inside his beating heart, Mallord knew something was not right. "Richard," he said, feeling a shiver tremor through his soul and making the hairs on his arms stand on end.

* * *

Back in the waking world, in Tupper, Penwood State, Richard doubled over in the middle of sneezing six times on his way back from Rushford Candy Shop. He guessed someone was talking about him. It was a popular Naibonese saying. Once he recovered, someone said, "Bless you, Charlie!" to which he tipped his hat. Then with the façade of Charles Reuben Rushford, he greeted anyone he passed with a pleasant smile and a 'Have a good evening!' in a cheery voice that he didn't have to fake.

The deed he planned was done. He was immensely satisfied and brimming with pride. The Red Circle did well. All his assassins were top class thanks to him. They were almost unrecognizable from the killings they did in Lwendolen. There was once a time when the Red Circle, under command of Richard, painted bloody circles on whatever victims they could get their hands on. Left and right they killed in Lwendolen, stole money, and paid the poor. Then, after nearly a decade of heinous acts, they packed in 1827, leaving the country for good.

Richard deemed Lwendolen a 'fallen failure of fikking foolery'. The people he saw as filthy gray clouds would not go away no matter how much cleansing he did. Some places just weren't meant to be saved, so he would just move on. U.A. was his next victim, or, in his terms, 'the next cleansing project'.

The bells of eight o'clock rang out, so he quickened his pace and slipped into the bakery just before closing. He picked out a few breads for himself. Something nice for some good celebration.

"Will that be all, Charlie?" the baker gave him a cheeky smile. Richard glanced around at all the golden and brown breads and eyed some with sprinkles of sugar on it.

"I'll take that, too." He pointed to one with powdered sugar on top. Richard was thinking Anastasia might like something nice instead of all the normal sourdough he had been giving her with simple slices of cheese. She had recovered from the lesser demon leaving her body and unbeknownst to her, thanks to Charcoal, she would remember nothing of it.

The baker chuckled making his rosy cheeks rosier. "Ever the sweet tooth, Charlie!" He smiled. "I'll put one more in for service, if uh..." He leaned it and gave a gap-toothed grin, "you give s'more of that good peppermint candy and uh—"

"Danny!" Came the thundering shriek of his wife and he flinched. "Don't you go bribing Charlie now! The doc said you gotta take it easy on the sweets!"