The cottage of Yoshi Tanaka, near Harvingdale, Maine, United States
"He's in over his head, the fool," the old man says, glancing around the room at the assortment of people gathered there.
The two teenagers in the corner both nod in agreement. The taller, a boy by the name of Marco Wen, scowls in distaste. The girl, the old man's grandchild, doesn't dare do more than agree.
Yumi watches her grandfather and his supporters without feeling much at all. She still remembers the times when she and her sisters were young, when her grandfather would tell stories of his childhood in Tokyo. She loved listening to those stories, until one day her grandfather changed.
He found a darker use for his abilities, and he pulled people into his web of lies.
Yumi followed him, too, because he'd always been close to her. She couldn't earn the same respect her sisters could, and though he scorned her for it time after time, Yumi stuck with him.
Yumi had a conscience once, but she'd learned over the years that listening to it wouldn't get her anywhere.
She doesn't always agree with her grandfather, or her possessive boyfriend for that matter, but in the long run she knows it will pay to be compliant.
She'll earn respect the way her grandfather has, and one day she'll be able to stop apologizing to him for the insignificant person she is.
Yoshi Tanaka looks around, his gaze lingering for an extra moment on Yumi.
"He has to be dealt with before he opens his mouth." Marco speaks up this time, taking in the fifteen or so others in the room.
Yoshi nods.
"Can you take care of him? Will they listen to you?" he wonders, "This is a brave idea you have, but how do you know your own army would not turn to slit your throat instead?"
"I know they won't," Marco declares boldly, "if they don't listen to me, they listen to Amber Greene. It's why I preserved her, why I brought her back as fully intact as I could. She leads them, and she answers to me."
Yoshi nods.
"As soon as that foolish headmaster opens his mouth," he says, "he's dead. I'll bring them, you give me the word."
"Yoshi?" a balding man in the corner asks, looking purely terrified to speak his mind in front of Yumi's grandfather, "Why must you kill the man? He's a forty-something with big dreams and no abilities. He's harmless."
"He's inconvenient!" Yoshi fumes, "I tire of worrying over him and who he's going to tell. He mustn't tell anyone that young Marco is responsible. The child is too valuable to us. We cannot lose him, his ability, or his army."
Yumi presses herself against the wall, noticing that he didn't mention her in the list of the valuable. If someone found out she was involved, it wouldn't matter.
She is the disposable one, the one her grandfather could keep on living without.
Yoshi's questioner hasn't been pacified.
"What is the point of all this?" he wonders, glancing around like he's just realized where he is, "You say Marco joined you because he's looking to take control, to pave a greater future. Why, then, must the rest of us watch others die on the way to this future?"
Yumi's grandfather scowls.
"Chaos," he says, "we're looking to create chaos."
As though they've known each other for years instead of months, Marco is able to complete the old man's statement with his own.
"Chaos leads to a change in power," Marco says, smiling cruelly, "I'm tired of just being a child, someone no one takes seriously. I have power, and I want more. I, we, have to go out and get what we want, and if that means causing chaos it's what we'll do."
The skeptic presses himself against the wall in a terror-stricken parody of Yumi's previous action.
"I didn't sign up for this!" he complains, eyes round, "Killing shouldn't be part of a greater future. I want no part in this!"
Finally making his move, the man scrambles out of the small room, stumbling down a hallway toward the door of the cottage.
"Stop!" Yumi hears the threat of danger in her grandfather's voice, imagines where this is about to go.
The skeptic has clearly stopped, because the sound of the door doesn't betray him.
"Marco," Yoshi orders, "go get her. I'm going to make an example out of those who dare question us."
Yumi doesn't let herself feel afraid. She lets the bitterness consume her, wearing the sneer that seems to fit her so well these days.
Marco disappears from the room, moving off in the direction of the cottage cellar. Yumi's grandfather hustles out into the hallway, dragging the skeptic back into the main room with the rest of the gawking masses.
Yoshi Tanaka scowls, the expression seeming to distort his face in a way that makes him appear much more sinister.
"Is there anyone else here today who would like to question me?" he demands.
No one moves. Yumi has to force herself to breathe. She's scared, but it's not an emotion she's allowed to feel most days.
Marco comes back into the main room, dragging Amber along next to him. He shoves her forward, glaring at her like he sees her as a mere weapon now.
Yoshi releases the man who'd questioned him, and Marco grins.
"Can I?" he asks, as though it's his birthday and someone's about to gift him with a present from his wildest dreams.
Yoshi nods, looking disinterested.
"Kill him."
Marco looks down at Amber, who stands frozen next to him.
"Kill the man," Marco orders, "now."
No one pays much mind to Amber.
Everyone's paying more attention to the poor man, who's now screaming and begging with fright.
Yumi's the only one who looks to the girl, the only one who sees the humanity battling the killer's instinct.
Yumi can't help thinking that Amber is braver than she is.
Amber stands perfectly still, a snarl frozen on her face while fear manifests itself in her eyes. She's fighting against something she can't control, and as much as she wants it to release her, the sinister force keeps its grip.
The skeptic takes a step, then starts to run when he realizes he's actually got a chance of escape. Amber finally pounces, unable to restrain herself any longer. Her prey is on the move, and Yumi can't help watching the chase with interest.
The man runs for the hallway, only to be cut off. He turns around, scurrying across the room like a terrified mouse. Yumi can't come up with anything to say or do, but everyone else seems to be cheering on the event.
"Bet you twenty she goes for his throat." one woman says to a nearby man.
"Bet you fifty he throws the first punch."
Yumi wants to run, to get out of here as fast as she can, but her feet won't move. Morbid fascination has claimed her, rooting her in place.
The poor man backs himself into a corner, looking around frantically for an exit. He's trapped, though, and Amber is closing in on him.
"Please!" the guy shouts, "Don't kill me!"
Amber snarls, her lip drawn back.
"Please!" the skeptic repeats, his face drained of color.
Amber's only response is to pounce.
Yumi is reminded vaguely of those vampire movies her sisters always used to watch, where some guy got his throat ripped out by a group of bloodthirsty monsters.
Amber sinks her teeth into the man's neck, hissing furiously as she slashes his face with her fingernails.
"Ha!" the woman who'd been placing bets shouts, "Where's my twenty dollars?"
Yumi shivers, unable to look away.
The man kicks and struggles, though by now he's too weak to do much of anything. Amber managed to slit his throat with her teeth, and now she's standing over him, all emotion drained from her face. People are laughing, applauding her even, but Amber doesn't pay them any mind.
She blinks, something remotely human returning to her gaze. Her eyes land on the man's now motionless figure, and she screams.
It's an awful sound, and Yumi has the urge to find a way to put an end to it.
Marco is first to move, though. He wraps his left hand around Amber's arm, dragging her forcefully out of the room and away from the dead man.
Yoshi laughs, Amber's dreadful scream still ringing through the air as she's taken away.
"That," Yoshi booms, "is real power. That is chaos, a way to take control."
As everyone around her cheers, Yumi drops her gaze to the ground.
The Perkins School for Self Improvement, Maine, United States
Headmaster Perkins has had enough.
He refuses to be threatened by the wannabe necromancer, the boy who lets his ability go to his head. On days like this, the headmaster is glad he doesn't have an ability. Still, he fears that his wife's power will land her in danger someday, and that his daughter will grow up to be too powerhungry for her own good.
He hopes with all his being that Lauren never becomes a child like Marco.
The headmaster has decided that he's not afraid. Marco may have played a role in those two killings, but he's merely one child. With the combined efforts of Headmaster Perkins and the police, there's no way things can end poorly.
It's nearly eleven on a Sunday morning, and Perkins figures that any students who might care to eavesdrop are likely busy in their rooms at this hour. He's locked himself in his office, the landline phone gripped firmly in his right hand. He reads the policeman's number once, twice, then dials before he can give in to the sixth sense that's telling him to put the phone down.
The officer picks up on the third ring, sounding cheerful enough. The headmaster wonders how the man can keep up that attitude when that line of work must be incredibly stressful.
"I have a strong suspicion," Headmaster Perkins tells the cop, "that one of our students played a role in at least one of the murder cases."
The officer pauses for only a second, his steady voice booming through the line.
"I see," he remarks, "do you have a name for me, Headmaster?"
"I do," Headmaster Perkins asserts, "the boy is in the tenth grade here at my school. His name is Marco. Marco Wen."
The headmaster continues his talk with the policeman, eventually returning the phone neatly to its cradle. He sits in his desk chair for a bit longer, trying to shake off his nagging sense of foreboding.
He doesn't notice the sound of footsteps retreating from his office door. He never realizes that someone had been listening with their ear pressed to his door.
The headmaster never considers that, while he's sitting in his office, Marco Wen is pulling out a cell phone to punch in the number of a recent but good acquaintance.
The end ... for now.