“Hold on tight!” Vincent growled. “We’ve wasted enough time.”
Hesitantly, I wrapped an arm around the back of his waist before we entered the Spirit Door that would supposedly transport us in an instant to Fountain Springs where Carter lived. As soon as we were inside, the door swung shut, creaking eerily until Vincent and I were completely engulfed in darkness.
I felt him wrap an arm around my nape before whispering “Hold your breath,” but it was too late. The floor under our feet suddenly collapsed like a trapdoor. I screamed my heart out as we plummeted freely into nothingness. My insides almost flipped and it took a lot of effort to hold down my lunch.
About ten seconds later, we were still falling.
I hang on tightly to Vincent.
Casually, he squinted at his watch.
The next thing I knew was the soft grass against the soles of my leather boots and the rustling of wind. I would’ve crashed face first onto the ground if Vincent hadn’t caught me.
“Breathe,” he said softly, propping me up, intently waiting for me to recover.
Clasping on my throat, I took a few lungfuls of air and blinked the yellow spots that danced around my eyes.
“Are we here?”
The world spun around me like a giant kaleidoscope.
No wraiths.
Awesome.
With a nod, he started toward the front porch and looked into the window.
The two-story house was mostly made of wood painted in white with clay tiled roof that was almost camouflaged by the thick barren branches of several trees lining the yard. From the neutral-themed living room, bright light passed through the window, seemingly inviting.
“What now? Aren’t we going in?” I mumbled, gritting my teeth to prevent them from rattling.
“No,” Vincent kept peering into the window. “Reapers are forbidden to enter abodes without summons from an expiring soul.”
“In English?”
“We can’t come in because no one’s about to die in there,” he whispered. “We need a Living to formally invite us in if we’re to turn the place upside down.”
“I thought that rule is for vampires?”
A smirk formed on Vincent’s lips. “What are you? Three? Vampires don’t exist.”
I faked a silent chuckle. “Right… And five days ago, Reapers and souls and wraiths don’t exist to me. But now, they do so I’m trying to keep an open mind.”
Beside me, Vincent just let out a buoyant laughter that made my stomach cringe a little. I hushed him for the fear that Carter’s parents would hear us.
“You’re wearing Nysmic,” he began, eyeing me from head to toe before giving a slight nod that said unremarkable but all right. “Mortals can’t hear or see us.”
Suddenly, I remembered that night right before I died when I saw Vincent standing in front of my dad’s doorstep, wondering if he knew that I would die on that day or if he deliberately didn’t wear Nysmic so I could see him.
Vincent sighed, fixing his metallic gaze at me. “Yes and no,” he said as if answering my unspoken questions.
When I answered with a bewildered look, he pointed at the tiny diamond stud earring piercing through his right earlobe, identical to the one he ordered me to wear.
“Diviner’s Charm,” he said. “One of its kind. I can’t quite link with your thoughts unlike I could’ve with a full familiar so I had these customized for us. Thought it’d be handy if we’re to be separated.”
I cringed. “Y-you could read my mind? That’s so not fair!” I protested, feeling a burn make its way to my cheeks as I tried to clear my mind of any thoughts without so much success.
As a grin broke on his face, Vincent shook his head. “No. Not really. I wouldn’t call it mind reading. It’s more like having a built-in walkie-talkie inside your head, meaning you can control the flow of thoughts to the receiver. I just hear what you want to tell me.” I was about to let out a sigh of relief when he added, “But as it turns out, you’re not really that good in controlling your thoughts so I got most of them. If you were wondering, yes, I was aware that you’d die but not until after three days and no, I didn’t forget to wear Nysmic. You were able to see me, well, perhaps because you’re not so normal from the beginning.”
Seemingly amused with himself, Vincent backed away, eyes shifting from one window to another. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet before leaping off the ground. Effortlessly, he caught on an overhanging tree branch and hauled himself up.
Groaning, I clambered up the tree which wasn’t as easy as how he made it look. The twigs stuck on my dress, the knobby jagged bark grazing my palms and knees.
“You mean because of this link,” I began, catching my breath as I carefully crawled to the fork where he stood niftily. “Vladimir can read Mei and Amyr’s mind?”
Vincent surveyed the upper floor still holding back a smile, making me wonder how much of my thoughts he read without my knowing. “Not exactly. The master to familiar link works just like the earrings.”
I cleared my throat, wanting to claw off the earring at the soonest possible time. But then, I just concentrated on barring the flow of my thoughts, not willing any of it to reach Vincent.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, sighing of relief. “You’re thoughts are really loud. It’s starting to give me a massive headache.”
“If my thoughts bother you so much, you should’ve at least told me,” I muttered grudgingly. “I don’t want you messing with my head.”
When he opened his mouth, I readied a retort, anticipating another snide remark from him, but instead, he just looked at me with honest eyes and said, “I’m sorry.”
That was totally unexpected and for a while, I was at a loss for words. The sarcastic line I just made up inside my head to counter whatever it was that he had to say got lost at the tip of my tongue. For a while, an unsettling quiet prevailed us accompanied by the gentle rustling of falling leaves.
From the second window to the left, I could see Carter sitting on the side of his narrow bed, eyes staring blankly right through us as though he knew we were spying on him. His room looked like it had been attacked by bandits—the sheets ruffled, books sprawled all over the carpeted floor, pieces of crumpled paper everywhere. Carter’s face twitched as he clenched his fist around his thick eyeglasses and watched the broken shards cut through his palm. Blood dripped nonstop from his hand, putting a pleased disturbing smile on his face.
“Christ!” I cried out, jumping to the narrow overhang from Carter’s room.
A few tiles slid off their places as I scrambled my way to the window. I pressed a hand against the glass panel and was about to pry it open when Vincent caught my hand, shaking his head.
“Look closer,” he whispered, ducking low so that he wouldn’t be visible from the inside.
Then I saw it. The figure was a bit hazy, slumped on Carter’s feet with its head cradled on his lap. It was a woman—ashen face, sunken gray eyes that seemed hollow at times, lipless set of brown rotting teeth, withered bony hands, long scraggly brown hair caked with filth and blood. Her tattered motley robe curled and stirred on its own will as it floated a couple of inches above the floor, like tentacles threatening to strike.
I immediately recognized the woman-creature as the wraith that drowned me at Mira Webber’s pool; the same one that in connivance with other wraiths, possessed Dad to kill me and the same one that relentlessly chased me while I made my escape to the Sinclairs. Most of all, I could not forget the creature because without all the wraith-like qualities, perhaps when it wasn’t yet tainted, no one would deny the resemblance between us.
“A Swarth,” Vincent muttered in an apprehensive undertone. “What’s a Swarth doing here?”
With the help of the Diviner’s Amulet, I tapped into the mental Link between us and relayed everything I knew about the said Swarth. What is it? I asked him through the link.
He took one cautious glance through the window before answering me. “A very few souls—powerful souls—become tainted and still retain their original form. Well, a considerable part of it. Unlike lesser wraiths, they act based on will instead of instinct and they’re a lot harder to kill.”
I counted how many Swarths I had seen to date; the blond girl in the pedestrian lane, who got smashed by a car, and this one. So far, both of them had tried to kill me.
Carefully, I risked a peek into the room. The horrifying sight made me recoil—the small pool of blood on the carpet, Carter’s creepy lifeless eyes with black squirming blotches on them, his deeply gashed hand and his ashen gaunt face.
“We have to do something!” I choked wide-eyed.
Vincent held my shoulders with a hard grim expression, a hint of worry painting all over his face. “Aramis, we can’t do anything right now. My protective enchantments won’t work either. Not with a Swarth inside this house. We have to go back and get proper equipment. A Lure, perhaps—“
“No! He’ll be dead by the time we’re back! We have to do something. Now.”
“Look.” Vincent held my head as he tried to meet my eyes after letting out a few cuss words. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. I’ll get you home where you’ll be safe and I’ll draught right back here to save him, okay?” Feverishly, he took my hand and looked around guardedly.
Before he could jump off the roof, I stopped him. “Reapers and familiars can’t come in without invitation, right?” I mumbled, lost in my private train of thought.
“Yes,” he replied with an urgent tone. “We should go before—“
I looked straight into his silver-gray eyes, mustering every strand of courage left in me. “I’m not a familiar. Not yet, at least.” Satisfied to hear that my voice was firm, I removed his hand from my wrist and turned away before the rare daunted look in his wide pale eyes could make me want to turn back on my resolve. Hopefully, it would work.
“No… Come back here.” Weakly, he shook his head with utter incredulity as I stepped away, bracing myself for a punishment from the Bind. Inexplicably, no weight or pain came. Good.
Through the window, I could see the Swarth lifting its grotesque head from Carter’s lap as though it already sensed my presence. I swung the shutters outward.
“I’ll be back,” I replied with a small voice before flicking my wrist and watching my Cataclyst form on my left hand. “I’ll lure it. And if I make it out, be ready.”
To stop me, Vincent draughted to block my way but I veered to the right and plummeted straight into the room. Carter seemed oblivious as I tumbled on the carpeted floor, barely avoiding the puddle of bright crimson that trickled from his hand. From outside, Vincent kept cursing, calling my name as he banged his shoulder repeatedly against the invisible wall that seemed to prevent him from coming in. It was futile.
“Trust me okay? I can do this!” I yelled out to him, keeping an eye as the Swarth slowly levitated itself to the ceiling, its encrusted wiry mane billowing.
“Aramis! Get back here this instant!” he commanded in what was supposed to be a threatening voice. To me, he just sounded frantic.
Quickly, I got to my feet and trained my eyes on the Swarth. It let out a shrill wail of different pitches that sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard. I restrained myself from wincing and braced myself as it dove straight toward me. The Swarth tried to reach for my neck with its misshapen hands. Just in time, I leaped away from it and dove into a pile of loose reports lying about on the floor.
With an aggravated screech, it lunged to my direction. It seemed to grin with those mottled teeth. I barely caught its filthy claw-like hands with my Cataclyst before they clashed with the floor two inches shy of my head. The blow was forceful enough that the Swarth’s arms were wrenched into the floor from the elbow down. Hurriedly, I rolled away from it, my last meal threatening to make its way back up to my throat as the repulsive smell of putrid flesh and blood wafted to my nose.
Taking my chances while the Swarth was still stuck, I flailed my Cataclyst against its emaciated head, my razor-sharp nails raking over its hideous inhuman face. Black liquid gushed from the four deep diagonal lacerations that ran from its forehead to its right ear, drenching my face and my clothes.
With a blood-curdling shriek, the Swarth thrashed and writhed to get its arms free. I heard a slight plunk! and saw one of its eyes and part of its right ear roll on the floor, swimming in a pool of slimy black blood. I staggered backward, dry heaving as I fumbled on Carter’s sheets to wipe most of the revolting stuff from my face.
“Hurry!” Vincent urged as I hurried to Carter’s side.
“Carter!” I shouted at him, ripping a band of cloth from his bed sheet before haphazardly tying it around his bleeding hand. His lips were cracked and almost white from blood loss. “Wake up!” I shook his shoulders but his eyelids continued to droop.
“Whack him hard on the head!” Vincent yelled from the outside, his eyes fixed on the Swarth as it tried to yank its limbs free from the floor. “Now!”
I slapped Carter’s face. I only realized that I went a bit too far when he tumbled rolling to the other side of the room. Cursing, I jumped and caught him before he hit the wall. Just then, the Swarth yanked its limbs off the floor with a crash. Splinters of wood flew everywhere.
Gasping for breath, I shielded my face as I half-dragged, half-carried Carter to the door. I just had time to twist the knob and hurl Carter safely into the hallway before I was knocked down hard, face first against the floor. A pair of coarse bony hands slinked their way around my throat and began to tighten.
The Swarth let out a triumphant screech as it watched me grope for air. Mist started to form around my eyes, my limbs flailing in a useless attempt to get the creature off my back. Desperately, I swung my Cataclyst over my head, hoping to land a blind hit. The creature smashed my head onto the floor. I went blind for several seconds. This was the same creature who took my life and now it seemed like it would succeed for the second time.
“Hey! Ugly!” I heard Vincent shout as he threw a massive tree branch into the room. As expected, it whizzed straight through the Swarth’s translucent body and impaled like a five-foot spear into the concrete wall with a distinct twang.
It didn’t do any damage but it distracted the Swarth for a split-second. Grabbing the opportunity, I clawed on the creature’s arms, blindly slashing above my head until black blood dripped onto my forehead. Its grip loosened a little.
With all my remaining force, I snatched its head, my fingers digging deep into its hollow eye socket before ramming my Cataclyst against its head until tiny chips of skull crumbled to the floor. When at last, the Swarth crumpled lifelessly to the floor, I cursed and lunged over it.
“Die! Bitch!” I shrieked madly, almost in tears as I pounded on its head over and over again.
“Throw it outside! Before it reforms!” Vincent pressed.
Wiping the dark slime from my eyes, it took some effort to stand up while fighting the wooziness. My head throbbed and pounded. My knees and hands were trembling violently as I grabbed a clump of its wiry hair and lugged the creature across the room. I lurched toward Vincent and hauled the corpse out the window, watching it roll on the eaves and down to the yard with a distinct thump. Vincent caught me before I nearly tumbled after it.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I turned to him. “Is it dead?”
“Not yet,” he answered as we vaulted from the rooftop. “Only a scythe could kill it. But I don’t have mine anymore since I gave it to you.”
In horrified disbelief, I watched the Swarth’s hand twitch as its eviscerated eyeball and other dark bits and pieces shot out from the window, soaring back to their owner.
“A scythe?” I demanded in alarm. “Exactly when did you give me your scythe?”
Without another word, Vincent draughted to the Swarth in a millisecond and placekicked it over the head, crushing the skull in one blow. The creature’s body thrashed wildly, its malformed hands flailing above its head, perhaps in search of its now nonexistent head before it went limp. He made it all look so easy.
Vincent trudged to the front porch, muttering low in an ancient language that made no sense to me. Suddenly, the steps to the porch glimmered with a faint blue light that stretched up to the roof, enclosing the whole house inside a huge protective barrier that looked like an enormous tinted glass box. I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that the enchantment would keep Carter’s family safe. At least for now.
There were screams of panic coming from the house. Maybe Carter’s mom had found him. Good. Soon, I could hear an ambulance siren wailing from a few blocks away.
“I gave you my scythe when I resurrected you to be my familiar,” Vincent finally answered my question, stepping to me with a severe look, his jaws stiffly clenched, shoulders shaking with rage. He was going to kill me this time for sure. “How can you be so reckless?! Never. Do that. Ever. Again! Or I swear I’ll—”
“Well it worked! So shouldn’t you be at least thanking me?” I whined exasperatedly, finding myself pouting and fuming at his absurd overreaction.
All of a sudden, Vincent was smiling to himself—a smile I had never seen before—looking like he just remembered a good joke and patted me on the head. “You’ve done well.”
Wincing, I instantly dropped my gaze and stared at the dried leaves that flitted over his black leather shoes. I couldn’t help but feel stupid—like a puppy rewarded with a treat. Deep inside, I was smiling at the fact that somehow he had accepted me.
Again, he crushed the Swarth’s head under his shoes, making sure it didn’t have time to reassemble itself before slinging it over his shoulder. He grinned. “Can’t wait to see the look on Vlad’s face when we show off your first Swarth.”