Antidisestablishmentarianism.
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My throat was burning with a cold fire by time we finally started to slow down.
"I have. No idea. Where we are," I panted, clutching my chest as it heaved quickly up and down. Leo. The hooded man had been Leo? And the power I had felt within me...the energy that came out of my body and knocked Leo back. Where had that come from?!
I shook myself from my thoughts, trying to find landmarks that would tell me what street we were on. I couldn't think about the past right now. I had to think about the future.
I had to focus on hiding. Thomas had almost died, and I had intervened. That had pissed of Leo--whatever he was. Was he another Grim Reaper? A helper for Death?
Leo was going to kill Thomas. Maybe even me.
Protecting us both was what I had to focus on.
Thomas and I had lost ourselves in a couple of alleyways with drunken homeless people, ending up in a part of Chicago that didn't seem all that friendly. We kept running until I felt like we were safe again. Wherever we were now, the buildings were much nicer and the people looked much more approachable.
I looked up at Thomas, who looked more frightened and confused than ever. He was breathing just as hard as me, looking down at his hands as if he had never seen them before. "Do you know where we are?" I asked, urging him to center his attention on me by shaking him by the jacket. "Thomas, snap out of it!"
"I touched that man. He won't follow us now. He can't. Evil. He was going to kill me. I was supposed to die." Thomas blinked a few times, as if fighting some sort of external force. "I didn't sign up for this... I didn't sign up for this..."
"Didn't sign up for what?" When he didn't answer, I pulled on his jacket to urge him forward. "Thomas, I'll explain everything. Everything is fine. We have to keep moving."
Thomas' cobalt eyes flickered on people coming in and out of stores, walking around us. He flinched away from them, huddling towards me, gripping my arm."We're surrounded by evil. Don't you see them?"
He was talking crazy.
"Enough! We have to hide somewhere!" I yanked on his arm until he finally obliged, letting me lead him down the street.
He was talking to himself like a mad man. "I see what you are!" he shouted to a pedestrian, gripping him by the shirt. "I see you're rotten evil! You're not fooling anyone!"
"Ease off, psycho!" The pedestrian pushed away from Thomas, flipping him the bird.
My heart pounded. Maybe Thomas wasn't talking madness. Had saving his life made him able to see the supernatural? Something I wasn't able to entirely see yet? I had to get Thomas inside. Away from people.
So I slapped him for the second time that day. "Get a hold of yourself! It's over now. I'm not going to let you die. We just need to get somewhere safe!"
He blinked a few times, then nodded like a bobble head. "I'm ok now. I'm ok..."
I held Thomas back from following the pedestrian, hopelessly turning his body around with me and facing the building before us.
The Crossroads. It was the name of a small shop. Or at least it felt small from the outside. It had an ancient looking wooden door and small bells that greeted you as you walked in. Paranoia gripped me. Without even looking at anything inside the building, I hurried to the shop window and peered out from behind thick curtains. I expected to see hooded men outside. There were none.
"Faith," Thomas said from a distance. He sounded like he was in awe. "What is this place?"
The first thing that I saw when I turned around was an empty receptionist desk made of pure gold. Then my eyes dropped to the floor, taking in the most beautiful marble I had ever seen in my life. I was wearing ugly black converse. I cringed as they squeaked along the gorgeous floor, as I lingered around Thomas stood. My jaw went slack. Books. Books were everywhere. I was drawn to them. There were thousands and thousands. The place seemed to grow larger as I took in the many tall shelves around me. There were books of all different sizes and colors. Old leather covers and titles on the spine that I had either never heard of, or couldn't understand because they were in a different language.
"None of these are in English," Thomas said, blowing dust off of one of the books. "This one says it's in... Garlic?"
Frowning, I grabbed the old book from him and wiped off an ugly dark smudge. "There was stain. It says Gaelic."
"Oh..."
As if I was under some sort of spell, I handed the book numbly back at him, running my fingers down the spines of books as I explored the library. Thomas sat down on the floor and started to read quietly to himself. I decided to leave him be. Thomas had been through a pretty shocking event and I thought the best thing to do was to give him a little bit of alone time to calm down.
I was intrigued by everything--even the screws holding the shelving together, but I didn't dare take a book out like Thomas had. It felt wrong. Something within me told me not to touch anything, like they didn't belong to me.
There was something magical about that place.
When I got to the back of the book store, I started to see pamphlets about a Psychic. I picked one up, studying the golden, upside down palm with an eye on it. Continuing further towards the back of the store, I felt drawn towards a certain place and pushed past a heavy curtain into a secret room with dim lighting. It looked straight out of typical cliché movie with a psychic in it, with thick dark carpets and odd decorations. There was even an ominous chandelier hung over a circle palm reading table.
I hovered my hand over the ancient looking artifacts scattered around the dark room, stopping at necklace displayed in a thick glass case. I had never seen anything so small yet so detailed. It was a blue stained-glass medallion on the front, and on the back of it, hidden from the front, was a cross with a cynical black snake wrapped around it.
Subconsciously, I placed my hand on my chest where I had always worn a cross on my neck. Two crosses, which I had lost in Death's presence. One, at the carnival. The other, when the Raven Demon had tried to kill me for whatever reason. The cross somehow grounded me, reminding me of my morals and my family. Now there was nothing there.. I thought a cross would protect me from evil, from Death, but for some reason it hadn't. But he had injured the raven demon. Malphas.
I was too afraid to tell my mother I had lost her gift to me, plus my grandmothers old cross that had been passed down from generation to generation. I was too afraid to tell her anything now. If she knew anything about Death, it wasn't obvious. If she knew about the contract, it absolutely wasn't obvious. I had begun keeping my distance from both of my parents ever since the psychologist incident, isolating myself from them, and they hadn't said a word about it. That wasn't like them at all, too. Usually they were involved with everything I did and fought to have a presence in my life. We were a family that loved communication and each other. Recently, we only said good morning and good night, and I was locking myself in my room and turning the music up higher.
What the hell had Death done to my family? To me?
Maybe he hadn't done anything at all.
Maybe I was just crazy...
Something moved at the corner of my eye. A shadow.
"Hello?"
A woman slowly stepped out from the darkness.
I took a step back, stiffening.
She couldn't have been a day over twenty, with a mess of wild brown curls which spiraled down her back. Olive skin, a slim waist, and high cheekbones that made her look very severe. She sported thick black eyeliner and a smoky eye shadow that made her amber colored eyes stand out. Her eyes seemed to swell with a past that wasn't so pleasant; hauntingly grim and brooding. She was smaller in stature than me, but she looked like she worked out often.
If she had attacked me right then and there, I wasn't so sure that I would have won.
I bring this up because she looked like she was about to attack me.
Neither of us said a word.
I eyed the belt along her waist. It had a cell phone strapped to it, and something half-covered by her hand.
A gun?
Still silent, the woman took a step towards me, briefly eying the medallion within the glass case. My hands curled into fists. I stood my ground, letting her come closer.
"What's your name." Her voice was softer than I thought it would be and didn't quite fit her harsh appearance.
I narrowed my eyes daringly. "I could ask you the same thing," I retorted.
She sneered a little. "Psychic is not working today."
"Psychic? I... didn't mean to impose. I just wanted to see what was back here--"
"Who are you, and why are you here," she spoke much slower, eyes still severe and dangerous.
"Hope...Smith. Hope Smith." I cleared my throat."That's my name! Hope Smith." I laughed a bit awkwardly. Nice going.
Her expression was vacant of any emotion. "You're a terrible liar."
"Listen," I began, "I don't want any trouble. There was nobody up front. I....I just went through the curtain over there without thinking--"
"I asked you two questions." She gave me a fierce look. "You only answered one." She moved inhumanly fluid and calculated towards me-- a lot like Death. In a matter of seconds, there was a gun to my forehead, and my pulse thumped in my ears. Her eyes drilled into mine, pupils dilating. "Why. Are you. Here?"
"Desperation," I answered, standing my ground. "My aunt... she, uh...is really into this sort of stuff, Psychics and such." I wasn't exactly lying, my aunt had talked to me once about going to get her palm read or something in Chicago. "So I... Googled the nearest psychic, and you guys weren't too far a drive away from my house. I want a.. palm reading... or a psychic analysis--whatever the hell you guys do, I want it."
Great. Now she can steal from you and leave you for dead.
Not that Death won't be doing the same very soon...
The woman's eyes narrowed. Seeming unsure of what to do next, the woman took her gun out of its holster and jerked it towards the circular table. "Sit down and shut up."
I slowly walked to the table, lowering myself into the seat. "Are you going to kill me?"
"Of course not, ma chère," a man answered.
I jerked.
The unfamiliar voice was rich and smooth with a French accent. My eyes darted across the room and fell on a golden cane that a striking man leaned against. The cane resembled something straight out of a story book, with a large octagon-shaped clear crystal at the top of it, and carved foreign symbols all along its shaft. The rod was memorizing, almost more than the dashingly handsome man that came with it. He wore an expensive, loud purple suit, and had fairly long hair with a multitude of dark colors. A black top hat sat on his head, slightly tipped over his face, concealing his eyes.
"I can tell that pedant is in good hands." He tipped his head and touched his chest with his hat, exposing a youthful face with sharp features. He bowed before placing the hat back onto his head. "I am Ace. I have been expecting you."
I frowned, then turned over my shoulder towards the glass case. The snake pendant was gone.
Something cold pressed against my cleavage. I looked down. The necklace around on my neck. "How did you...?"
"I didn't do anything." He pointed at me with his staff. "It chose you." He shrugged as if this was the most nonchalant conversation. "It was bound to choose someone to wear it at some point. Pendants are very...choosy."
I eyed him skeptically. "Allllrrrright...I not too sure what's going on here but I want this thing off my neck..."
"There's no need to be afraid of the pendant," the man continued. "It is called the The Devil's Repent."
"Still feeling a little afraid--"
"It represents purity," he quickly added. "It was my father's, but he never wore it. He couldn't, the pendant repelled what he was. So in his will, he gave it to me. That pendant is useless to me as well." As the young man with the top hat and cane stepped closer to me, he tilted his head up, and I saw the most interesting, bold shade of violet eyes. "I do not know the power it holds. Each pendant has its own mysteries. What I do know, is that The Devil's Repent definitely symbolizes cleanliness, and that it chose you."
"Does it like my smell or something?" I started to sniff my armpit when he stopped me.
"Pendants are attracted to souls, ma chère. Not scent."
I rolled my eyes. "Of course that dang thing likes my freaking soul. That seems to be some sort of crazy supernatural theme going on in my life recently. My soul. It's getting kind of old. It's a beautiful pendant but--" I tried to unclasp the pendant but it wouldn't come off. "What the...? How do you get this stupid thing off?"
"Pendants are a bitch to get off. Even if they are inactive, like that one." He winked at me. Clearly this man knew he had a natural sex appeal about himself. "They are as clingy as a crazy ex."
I threw my hands up then slapped them down on my thighs loudly. "Great! Wonderful!" I shouted sarcastically.
"You should feel honored. Most pendants are very protective and loyal. Like a dog, except without the drool and the fleas. Plus, they are quite beautiful. You will get many compliments." The man hobbled towards me, becoming more and more handsomer the closer he got. He placed his top hat on the table. "To address the elephant in the room, I had a terrible accident when I was younger and now I have a limp. It ages me, I know."
"If anything, that hat ages you..."
"Tu es une putain!" Ace said.
"I don't not speak croissant, but that didn't sound too nice."
"You were mean to me first." He smirked. "In all seriousness, it is a pleasure to meet you..." Ace searched for my name, and when I didn't answer, he stuck out his hand between us. I hesitantly went to shake it and he kissed the back of my hand. The press of his lips felt like fire.
My face heated up quicker than a Bagel Bite in a microwave.
I would have sharply pulled my hand away, but his hold tightened on my hand with a steel grip, violet eyes boring into mine. I became fixated on the man with the multicolored hair. "Faith Williams," he finally said.
I was impressed. "You must be the psychic."
"Not to you." He let go of my hand. "Warlock."
"Warlock."
"Oui. Yes. The psychic title is just for the money. Have to make a living somehow besides selling books."
"Warlock," I said again, this time with skepticism. If the Angel of Death could exist, why couldn't a warlock? I relaxed a little bit. "Where's your beard, wand, and pointy hat with stars on it? Why the top hat?"
The intimidating woman with the gun burst out laughing. I had forgot she was in the room, guardedly watching me. I decided she was Ace's worker who was only doing her job, and relaxed a little.
Ace was giving me a flat look. "That was just stereotypical and cruel. Féroce, l'amour. Never insult a warlock's hat, or their next hat will be made out of your skin." He winked at me again, and I wasn't too sure he was joking. "I've only worn a pointy hat with stars on it once. Maybe twice." He sat down in the chair in front of me, fixing the lapels of his purple suit. "Let us get started, shall we? Trixie, please leave the room. Entertain our client's friend outside once he gets tired of that... French graphic nude magazine. It could be a while."
"That's why he was so into that magazine," I muttered, shaking my head
The lights went out.
Ace and I sat in silence. Seconds stretched out into minutes.
"Um." I tapped my hands awkwardly on the table.. "Is this how this thing usually goes? Because I'm getting a little bored--"
The room lit to life with candles and a small breeze kicked up my hair.
"Les Esprits."
"I told you, I don't speak croissant."
"The Spirits. The Spirits are with us. They are eager, you interest them greatly."
"Mmmhm." I started to laugh. "Could I get some physical proof that you're legit? Not bogus stuff like what you just did there with the "The Spirits are with us"."
"Excusez-moi? Excuse me?"
"I almost fell for your "medallion-appearing-on-the-neck" Houdini thing, but that was just a parlor trick and a really hard chain to get off." My hair whipped around my face, and the candles seemed to stretch towards the ceiling. "And that's just a really strong fan..."
I hoped.
"Non croyant de la magie," Ace said slowly, almost playfully. "A nonbeliever of magic. My favorite." Ace chuckled, violet eyes gleaming. "Place your hands in mine, this only works if we're in contact. I will prove my magic to you." Ace's shut his eyes, features draped heavily with shadows from the dim lighting of the candles. I lay my hands in his, stealing his warmth to heat up my freezing cold hands. "I see your dilemma quite clearly. You and your friend are hiding here from a Reaper. Excellent place to hide, might I add, since only humans can walk into my book store."
"A Reaper?"
"Yes, a person who assists Death with his soul collecting. As I was saying...Death wants you to sign his contract. That nagging voice at the back of your head tells you to say yes, Death has too much influence over you. But your morals, your independence, and your heart, tells you to say no. And...you....you're worried that your physical attraction to Death will overpower your self-control, and diminish your tendency to escape a dire situation using your... cleverness." Ace paused, tilting his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing together, eyes still closed. "You're also very concerned about a math test you recently failed. A miniscule problem compared to the others, if I do say so myself."
I opened my mouth for a few seconds but nothing came out except. "Wow."
"Well you didn't study and you fell asleep during the exam, ma chère. What did you expect?"
"No, I meant wow, as in that was all really accurate about my, um... situation."
"The "Death" situation, you mean? The Reapers?"
I cleared my throat. "Yeah..."
As if I had just come to terms that I was in front of a supernatural being, my heart started to pound in my chest. I brought my hands away from his and the candles died down a little bit. "Can we slow down or something? Now I think still getting used to the fact that you're a warlock. I'm a little nauseous..."
"That's mostly because you're about to get your period." Ace scrunched up his face a little. "I really wish I didn't know things like that..."
I snorted.
Ace slowly slid his hands away from the center of the table. "We can wait a little bit for you to compose yourself. We have time."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."
"You are quite welcome." He tapped his fingers a bit impatiently, drawing my eyes to the assortment of rings on his fingers with charms and gems of odd shapes. "Perhaps we should discuss payment options until you feel at ease?"
"Um, sure." I started to take out my wallet.
His eyes appeared more of a lilac now, holding amusement. "I do not want your money, ma chère."
I looked up sharply. Then what the hell did he want? My heart skipped a beat when I suddenly interpreted the warlock's brooding gaze as sultry. Did he want sex?
"That is always a good sign, is it not? A payment without money." Shadows danced over his handsome features and his crazy colored eyes. "What I require... is much more important than money." Ace's French accent seemed to thicken as his voice dropped lower. "I seek a favor in return for my help. A trade. Comercio."
"A favor?" I shifted in my seat. "What kind of favor are we talking about here? 'The heart of your firstborn' favor? Or a vile of my blood, favor...so that you can give that vile of blood to Death? So he'll fill a pen or something and trick me into signing his contract?"
Ace rose an eyebrow, then laughed. "As ingenious as that assumption is, I am not Death, nor can I tell you what the favor is. You will have to take my word on it. I wish I could prove to you that my intentions are to help you, not him, but I can't. So you will have to take my word for it. My oath, is that I am not working for Death, nor am I Death in disguise. I am Ace, and only Ace. Je suis moi, et seulement moi."
"I never said you were Death in disguise."
"You did not have to, I know you were thinking it. Just like I know you believe David Star is Death because you saw one of his associates in Reaper clothing. I cannot read your thoughts if we are not in contact, but your emotions are fairly obvious to me. Your voice alone is very... expressive. Revenons à nos moutons. Let's get back to the subject at hand. Do you want to do this, or no? I will give you a proper reading."
I sat back in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. "How do I know the information you tell me will be the truth? That you won't just be making it up?"
"I cannot tell you what the favor is, and I cannot prove that my readings are accurate. But my favor should not harm you are or loved ones, and my readings are accurate. They always are." His expression went stone-serious. "The choice is yours. It is completely yours. I will not sway you, or influence you in any way. You have your free will in my presence. One favor, for an extremely thorough and accurate reading, and all information about the Angel of Death. Considering my immense retention of knowledge, my experience, and my strong understanding of your..situation, that's quite the barter."
I eyed him skeptically. "You know Death? Personally?"
"I have known him since he was still human." His violet eyes darkened. "We were friends once. "
Death had been a human? The massive, power-radiating monster who had literally entered my life in both cat form and a freaking cloud of black mist, was once a human? I couldn't believe it!
"And how long ago was that exactly? When he was a human?"
"About 2000 years ago."
My mouth fell open. "Oh my god."
I touched my lips.
I had kissed a guy who was practically prehistoric.
Maybe he really was a skeleton and I had only imagined skin on his lips...
Still a better love story than Twilight.
"I will tell you what." Ace stood up from his seat, producing a small business card from the inside of his purple suit. There was a picture of a joker on the front. Irony. "Think about this over night. Come back tomorrow if you want my--"
"What I don't have, Ace, is time. If I go outside right now, I could very well be killed," I blurted. Little did I know I was opening up a can of worms I never should have opened by saying that. "An extremely thorough and accurate reading, and all information about the Angel of Death, and a promise that Thomas and I will get back home alive. That means, you protect us somehow so we get home safely. Then, after I am home, you will contact me, and we can talk about payment then."
"No."
"Then I'm leaving." I stood. "Sorry for wasting your time."
"Leaving? Are you sure about that, ma chère? Your Reaper friend could be right outside."
"I'm sure," I said, never breaking my gaze with his. "If you are what you say you are, then yes, you are more powerful than me and I am only human. At least, I think I am... but that's beside the point. I have the right to make sure there's no way you can trick me. If any of those conditions I said are broken, I don't owe you anything. Period. You said it yourself, you're always right. Let's see if you're true to your word. Agree to my conditions, and I'll agree to owe you a favor."
"I am true to my word."
I rose an eyebrow. "Then this should be easy for you."
The warlock stared at me severely, before chuckling loudly. "Oh là là! You are quite valiant, Faith Williams. I am unhappy, but very well. I will agree to your terms. However." He held up a finger with one of many rings on it. "I must warn you. This nice French man is not a very nice French man when someone does not follow through on their payments. A deal is a deal. You will owe me that favor."
"You and Death have a lot in common," I said, sitting back down in front of the unhappy Warlock. "You're both set in your old, evil ways, and you both have slightly irritating, yet sexy accents."
"You are very honest." He chuckled. "I never said I was evil."
I gave him a flat look. "Slightly menacing eyes. Shady room with clingy pendants and candles. Really, it's the 20th century, get some lamps. You clearly want to settle some sort of score with this "favor" crap. You rely on a cane that makes look like a younger, lighter-haired, and hotter version of Jafar from Aladdin. And, if that all wasn't convincing enough, I'm pretty sure I saw a jarred up human heart somewhere in here with a label that said, "Arch Enemy #5089". Talk about obvious."
"Arch Enemy #5084," he corrected in a cough.
"I bet your underwear is even embroidered with something along the lines of "I'm a Bad Warlock" or "Black Magic is My Favorite"." I leaned back in my seat, fired an imaginary gun at him with my fingers, then blew off smoke. "Pow. You should just admit you're evil before this gets anymore embarrassing for you..."
"You are simply amazing, Faith Williams." The warlock started to clap. "I am evil, I will not deny it. All you American women are so scrutinizing!" Ace leaned forward on the table, giving me a crooked grin. "I may be a...'Bad Warlock', but I am a gentleman. And the choice is still yours. Do you want my help, ma chère?"
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