Hey guys! What's up??? So here's the deal. I broke this long-a$$ chapter up in THREE parts because it was just too intense not to. Now, I'll upload the next part ASAP if you guys promise to LEAVE FEEDBACK, VOTE, and love me FOREVER ! :D I'll come find you if you don't love me! I'll do it!! ;(.
ALSO, WATCH THE AWESOME TRAILER A FAN MADE ME IN THE EXTERNAL LINK!!
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Icy blue.
That was the exact color of the eyes that had leveled with mine.
It had taken me a significant amount of time to shake off the pale reflection in the car window I had seen. The after effect of seeing it was strange, because I hadn't exactly felt the urge to run away. It was almost as if I knew that whatever the pale thing was, it wouldn't hurt me.
I decided independently that whatever it was that had been behind me, would come to approach me at some point--even if I had gone home. And I just had to accept that.
But that didn't mean I wouldn't try and get out of the whole carnival thing.
"Marcy, I can't do this. I can already sense the clowns and their determination to get in my face," I said, then, with my best begging voice said, "Let's go home. Please?"
"Suck it up or hitch a ride!" Marcy shouted to me over her shoulder as we neared the ticket line.
Well alrighty then...
The line for tickets had moved faster than expected, and I hated it. The old, bulky women in front wouldn't stop raving about how much she loved my braids and the teenage zombie-look I had going on. Oh yes, she thought I was a zombie for Halloween. The reason was simple: I was pale, and I had moved one of my braids away from my face during the adventure through the parking lot, to reveal a massive, discolored hickey that I guess, in the right lighting and with her crappy vision, resembled a patch of rotting zombie flesh.
Honestly, I don't think my aunt had given me a stranger look than when she got a peek of it herself. "It looks like a selfish leech gave you kisses," she had said. "I'll have to meet him one day."
"Hmm. It looks painful." Marcy was staring at me with the most intense look.
It made me wiggle in my clothes when my aunt looked at the hickey because I felt so disturbed that the Angel of Death, of all people, was the one who gave it to me.
"That leech comment wasn't too far off," I muttered between my teeth. I started to walk ahead them towards the carnival, my cheeks feeling so hot with embarrassment that lava had some serious competition.
Entering the carnival revealed us to the loud, repetitive music from the game booths, screaming children, and the over powering swirl of assorted greasy foods that had simply been an aroma in the parking lot. My aunt and Andrew stayed in the massive line for pizza as we roamed around the area.
"Let's do this," Marcy said and gave me a decently hard five star.
I shot her a glare. "Seriously? Why not the Mary-Go-Round, or some balloon darts?"
Before us stood a Ferris wheel, stretched up to the sky with thin-webbed yellow iron bars that peeled with corrosion. I watched as a couple into a seat, lowered the screeching bar, and swung dangerously back and forth on the Ferris Wheel, depending on the rusty bolts.
Each seat suspended in the iron death trap seemed equally as rusty. Wind kicked up and the seats at the tippy top of the death trap swung viciously. The Ferris Wheel seemed to teeter a little to the left, then straightened again.
Hell no.
My stomach turned and twirled. Heights. By now it was evident to anyone, especially Marcy for that matter, that I was afraid of a million different things with many different shapes and sizes. But heights had seriously been problem. When I say problem, I mean I could barely tug my car across a small bridge that had always settled itself between my neighborhood and the highway. In fact, I actually had to go at least 2 miles per hour and shut my eyes. It was a pretty decently sized bridge, though, compared to other bridges. It was at least thirty feet off the ground...
Ok, maybe I lied. By small bridge, I meant one over a creek, which means it was literally less than five feet off the ground.
Anyways, I had to try new things. Like Marcy said, I had to have fun. Almost like I never got in that car accident with Devin Star--whose name made me shudder. I wouldn't think about him, because that brought up new thoughts that I never wanted to face. I had to get away. I had to go back to the time where I was having a blast at concerts, and when I was free from responsibilities.
"Actually, it looks kind of fun," I said.
For a death trap...
Surprisingly, it didn't go as bad as I thought. I mean, I had the most constipated look on my face from the moment the bar was lowered onto our lap. Not to mention, when the ride began to move, a high pitched, soft squeal escaped my lips all the way until we were at the top. Then there was also the fact that I was squeezing Marcy's hand so tight it should have broken bones, and my eyes were closed.
However, when I got off the ride I felt a sense of pride. I had conquered at least one of my fears. One of many...
I hadn't realized just how long I had gone without food for two entire days so we hurriedly ate pizza with my aunt and Andrew. Apparently, the couple had decided to wait out the line and go take photo booth pictures. Aunt Sarah showed me the whole bunch of them, giggling the entire time. Maybe she didn't see how utterly sick Andrew looked in every photo, but I did.
I had three slices of thin Sicilian pizza and drained it all down with a large Coke. I swear it was so good I had a grin every time I chewed. afterwards we ate a churro, cotton candy, and nibbled on some caramel popcorn Marcy and I decided to share. Andrew still looked a little pale when we left and I was almost positive he didn't eat anything past a slice of pizza.
Manarexic...
Right after a few rounds on the Tilt-A-Whirl and a small roller coaster Marcy practically dragged me onto we headed to the small, temporary arcade that was situated in the middle of the carnival. I was so victorious at Dance, Dance Revolution, Pacman, and a little game where you slid a token into a coin slot and aimed it at a flashing little hole in the machine. If you got the token into the flashing hole you won 1,000 tickets. Let's just say, I cashed in over 10,000 tickets after just thirty minutes, and Marcy cashed in 50 tickets from Skeeball.
"What are you going to get?" Marcy followed me around the closed-in glass prizes.
"Not sure yet," I replied. My choices were pretty limited. I had my eye on a t-shirt with the carnivals name on it for the longest time until my eyes locked on a strange looking ring. A small smile lifted my lips. I tapped the glass to get Marcy's attention at the other side.
"Marcy, is that what I think it is?"
She squinted. "A cupcake?"
The new cupcake prize fit perfectly on my ring finger. It was probably a bad idea to get any cupcake rings, since Death already found me delectable for betraying his trust and slashing him in the face with a cross...but the little thing was too cute for me to let go. And it just happened to be a strawberry frosted ring.
When we walked outside the sky was even darker, and carnies with cartoonish grins, lanky limbs, and piercings up the bridges of their noses were now scattered across the crowd, shouting recited opening lines and begging for attention. Thankfully, non of them seemed to have frilly red collars and exagerated feet and smiles, so I wasn't too bothered by them.
Except....I couldn't help but cringe as two of them caught my eye.
A thin, bony black women came dancing over to us with her twin, their corn-rows dyed a vibrant purple. "She can bend, she can break!" the one bellowed. When cracked open her mouth with a howl of insane laughter, I saw that her teeth were a dark yellow.
The other twin leaned backwards, her hips jutting out with pops and snaps, nestled her head in between her legs from behind and said, "And she can fold!" Soon they were both folded in odd positions, balancing on top of each other.
The folding twins seemed to be waiting for a response that I just couldn't give. They started to both laugh insanely and fell off of each other, cracking and popping as they stood up normally. They linked arms, before slipping away behind a game booth, giggling the entire way.
That was when I spotted the clown with a single pink balloon in its hand, smiling for a picture with a small boy. The clown was unrecognizable, thank God, but still made my blood go cold.
I turned to Marcy, who was covering her mouth with laughter. It was just my luck that I had been approached by such crazy people. "O-o-o-k. I'm going home. See ya." I pushed past her.
Marcy grabbed my sleeve. "Wait!"
"No, you wait!" I said, ripping her hand off my sleeve. I could feel a strange sensation in my stomach, and I didn't like what usually came with it. Death. I had spoken to soon with the delectable comment. He was clearly here to eat me alive.
Marcy seemed to ignore my fit and pointed past my face. "Let's go in there!" Marcy was pointing to a giant, brown tent, which seemed, even under the bright lights of the carnival, pitch black. Next to the tent was a wooden picket fence sign that read, 'Palm reading.'
"Palm reading," Marcy said. "That sounds so dang sketchy! Let's do it!"
"Palm reading?" I echoed. Those two words made me feel absolutely ill. Did I even have a future to even be read? I looked over at Marcy to give her another glare. She seemed transfixed with something in the crowd and had stepped away from me. Her hand was clenched.
Frowning, I returned my gaze to the tent.
It looks so creepy.
I watched the large brown tent's opening flap came open, and out stepped an elderly, elegantly dressed woman, with a mess of frizzy grey hair and a orange bandana holding back her bangs. The pale woman feebly came out into the light and I saw that she was holding both a blind stick. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be singing. She sat next to the sign on a small wooden stool that read and put her hands in her lap.
Abruptly, her eye lids lifted open to the sky, revealing two stark, cloudy grey eyes that even from afar possessed uneasy qualities to my stomach. There was something terribly wrong with the woman, and it revolved around the fact that a lingering black halo circled her frame.
My stomach twisted as the old woman seemed to lower her gaze, her eye brows knitting together and her head tilted as if she had heard something.
Don't look at me. Don't look at me.
The woman darted her eyes to my direction and I was held in my place. Panic seized my throat because although the woman could clearly not see, her eyes were directly on me.
I reached behind me for Marcy, to grab her get the hell out of there, but all I met was air.
"Marcy?" I turned in a complete circle.
Suddenly, it was if a wave of people decided to crush against me like a tidal wave as the twin carnies continued to laugh in the distance, bouncing off the walls of my skull. I felt like hands were trying to grip me has I run through them, scratching and trying to get my attention. I bobbed and weaved around hoards of people in panic, my eyes darting, looking for Marcy's small frame and childish pink puppy costume. I had to get the hell out of that carnival.
Unanticipated, I crashed into the large belly of a man and stumbled hard to the ground, heaving air in and out through my nostrils from exertion. The ground beneath my feet didn't look flatted out by thousands of feet and caked with food and debris. I looked past my hands and saw a pair of bare, wrinkly feet.
I tore my gaze up. It was the woman sitting on the stool. Up close, her eyes reminded me of two faded silver plates and get frizzy grey hair resembled grey coiling snakes.
She looks like medusa, I thought, slowly crawling away from her.
I went to jump back when the woman's blind stick slammed into my hand, nailing me painfully to the ground. Her dry lips lifting in a small smile as she slowly looked down at me. "Don't you know your manners, child? I am blind, not medusa."
"I--I--"
"You are Faith."
"Yes, m-mam'."
My jaw never dropped so low in my life as she said in a crackly warm greeting, "Faith Williams, I've been expecting you."
Her opening line had definitely drawn my attention, all without the ghastly pops and snaps of joints.
***
"You're a what?"
"A witch, dear. I thought teenagers these days were well accustomed to the word."
My mouth formed an 'O'. "Right," I said, thinking the woman was absolutely off her rocker...or stool, in her case.
"I prefer to be called a medium," she continued, "because my main ability is to see into the future and sense those no longer with us. Supernatural beings as well." The elderly lady situated herself in a cushioned chair across from me inside the tent and sighed heavily. "Lovely night, isn't it?"
I was still trying to process. "A witch? As in a broom and cooking body parts in a caldron to resurrect the dead or something?"
"No broom," Medusa said shortly. "Let's move on. By now you are use to the presentation of new supernatural beings, yes? So you already know I had a vision about you coming here. Are you here alone? Family? Friends? Dog?"
Nothing came out of my mouth. The woman had caught me off guard right off the bat.
I had also taken note that the black halo that had appeared around her had dimmed to the point that I could barely see it. It was strange to see the reoccurring black halo because the last time I had seen one, it had been a girl in an orange poncho crossing the street. The halo came with an uneasy feeling and I had a strong feeling it had to do with Death.
"Never mind who came with you. I can sense you staring intently at me. Your questions should not be silent in this tent. No supernatural being but myself can enter, here. Tell me, what fogs your mind, Faith Williams?"
I felt a little more at ease. "What's your name?"
"I am Debora."
"That's a pretty name."
She smiled. "So is yours."
I smiled back. "Thanks." I stared at her. "You know, before, you looked pretty scary to me. You seem pretty normal, now, you know, besides the whole you think you're a witch thing. When you looked at me across the way, I thought you were going to take my soul or..." I drifted off, an odd sensation in my stomach and my mouth went dry at the thought of Death. "Something." My eyes at the floor. A feeling of dread washed throughout my body as if Death would be right outside the tent as I left.
"The prince of darkness should not be within a mind as young as yours," Debora said, almost in trepidation. I couldn't recall another time Death was referred to the prince of darkness, but it sounded fitting. Although the prince of arrogance, secrecy, and lies would have been just fitting as well. "Maybe he is the reason you are here. You thrive for answers." She was completely sure of herself.
"I do."
"Give me your hand, Faith, and I will find your purpose here." The woman held out her hand, which shook with a slight tremor. Reluctantly, I put my hand into hers and waited for something to happen.
Abruptly, her hand clamped down tightly onto my wrist and I let out a small squeal at frigidness of her hand which pierced at my skin like ice picks.
I shouldn't be wasting my time here. I should be finding Marcy.
"Who is Marcy?"
I frowned. I hadn't said anything about my friend out loud and she automatically knew I was thinking about her. Maybe the woman wasn't as crazy as I thought. "No, she's my friend." A friend who ditched me.
"Marcy?" Medusa tilted her head. "Odd, there is no 'Marcy' present in your life that I can depict. In your memories, though, I see another with that pseudonym."
All at once a solid chill went through my body. "Why? What do you mean, pseudonym? That's her name. Marcy came to the carnival as a dog," I said. "She's my best friend."
"Faith," Medusa said, her voice calm. "My power does not lie. Whoever you came to the carnival with, I assure you, with my life, is not who you think they are." Medusa's expression grew stone cold. "Nor is she human."
My heart became alive in my chest. Had Death posed as Marcy that night? Possessed her? Murdered her?
"Is she dead? Did someone kill her?" I grew nauseous as I recalled the pale body that was standing behind me. Had that done something to Marcy? "Tell me who came to the carnival with me. It's important."
"No. Marcy simply does not...exist. The name. Not the person.." Medusa unfocused eyes blinked at the tent wall and confirmed that nagging feeling in my chest that she could read my mind. "Whoever came to the carnival with you is not the Angel of Death. But they are not on Heaven's side."
If I didn't get some air, I would surely pass out. "What is she, then?"
"A demon. A shadow demon. They purely exist to watch over a subject. I expect that subject is you."
My pulse thumped in my ear, reminding me I was not dreaming. Marcy had been there for me from the beginning. She had been the one I told my secrets to. The one I spilled my new crushes too. Marcy was a normal human being who cried when her first boyfriend cheated on her. It just didn't make any sense.
A year ago you didn't believe what you couldn't see, until he showed up at your doorstep.
"This was really happening," I concluded. What was I thinking? Marcy was someone I could trust, not the Medusa-looking old lady in front of me!
I need to get out of here. I tried to pull away from Medusa's grasp on my wrist. Her hold was rock solid.
It was as if feral instinct took over me because all at once I growled at her, "Let go of me!" My other hand was like claws at her wrist. It was a bad decision, because as my nails met her flesh, a stinging sensation went up my arm like a million volts of electricity.
"Relax." The simple word must have sent me into some hypnotic state because my eyes lowered. "Faith, we will do this my way because you are becoming resistant, supplied by outer sources of energy. I am Debora."
"Debora." The name slipped from my lips with a slur. I felt as if I was in a tunnel and I could only focus on Debora's eyes at the end of it.
"You would have be very protective of the area had I been subtle and told you I was going to invade your mind," Debora said. I couldn't move my left arm, the one which had been shocked by her skin. As Medusa slowly smiled, I wanted to punch her square in the face. "I know somewhat you are here. You have been shut out from the actual word by false characters. Overused, is what you are, and now you are being forced to rot from the inside out as you slowly come to your senses. I understand you. I feel the wrenching pain deep within you that is too overpowering for such a young girl. I know you are special. Very special. You must believe me, Faith Williams, I will tell you all the truths you want revealed."
"You mean nonsense. You'll just tell me more nonsense. Me coming to you, a crazy old woman, was simple odds, really. You're just like everyone else, provoked by Death. Maybe you even are Death. Who knows. By the end of this shenanigans I'll still be anxious to walk around every stupid dark corner!"
"This is not nonsense, child! I am Debora, and I will always be Debora. What you are going through is only a rut in the road, darling, a kink in the race. Sure, your journey is more unique than others, but that only makes you even more extraordinary. This is predicament you have, this depression, is still life." Debora's eyes grey a bright grey, illuminating the entire room. "Don't you understand? Everything will always happen for a reason, Faith. You were meant to come to me today. You are meant to struggle. Nevertheless you will flourish and continue to grow from these experiences."
Debora shook her head once, shut her eyes and composed herself. "Your hatred towards me, I'm afraid, comes with the bondage." Her voice had lowered. " The Fallen hate witches because technically, we the ones who defy the balance because when we die, we are reincarnated as a neutral force. At least believe that, before you go along loathing me for no apparent--"
"My hatred towards you is because you're a liar! Marcy is my best friend! She would never betray me like that!"
Debora's eyes leveled with mine. Once again, I felt as if she wasn't blind and it creeped me out. "If she was ordered to, she would. She would do so much as pretend to be your friend, even reincarnate herself into a child."
I pressed my hands against my head. Had the room grown hotter? "No! This is wrong! Marcy is my friend!" This couldn't be happening. I was losing another person close to me to a supernatural creature. Another part of the world I didn't want to know existed.
"When the cards are all lay out, demons never have power over themselves," Debora said. " There's always a greater power controlling them. They are simply minions. Cynical minions, Faith!"
"I want proof! I don't believe you!"
"Proof? You want proof? Does life give you proof? How about you ask Marcy yourself? Look her deep in the eyes. See that shimmering, deceiving layer which skims over all of em'." Debora made a wide hand gesture. "Heavens, there is so much hatred in your life, to be so unwilling to believe. We must fix this! This is why you are so corrupt inside, so naive. Alex has practically ruined you, girl."
My stomach dropped into a deep pit. I wiped the sweat beading on my forehead and blew out a slow breath. By that point, everything on my body was trembling.
"By Alex you mean Death," I said. I didn't know any names that could abbreviated to 'Alex' except for Alexandru, Death.
"Yes."
Was he called that by other people...Fallen? Alex? The name on Debora's lips made me feel ill all over again. It was almost as if Death was internally, through me, trying to silence her from saying anything else.
Maybe he was. The uneasy sensation through my body as Debora continued to grasp my wrist made me feel as if I was sinning. "Does he know you're talking to me right now? I feel...I feel like he's watching."
"That's possible."
I cleared my throat. Now I didn't feel so comfortable. "Tell me how you know him, Debora. How you know about Marcy."
"Marcy was simple. I see her face through your mind and see her visage is simply made up. Whether or not she is a she, for that matter, I am unsure. I assume she is a middle-class demon, if she has kept her visage up for this long without you knowing."
I shifted in my seat. Death. The pale face in the car. The nameless friend. "Does the demon mean me harm?"
Or is it like Death...playing and toying with me.
"It is not like Alexandru. Demon's are spontaneous with their actions. It would have killed you by now. It was ordered not to by a Master."
"Which is...?"
"That I cannot tell you it out loud, for saying the name leaves a dirty taste in my mouth. It is someone authoritative, though," she said slowly. "Very. Authoritative."
The name which popped in my head was almost delicately placed. Lucifer.
"As for how I know 'Death' as you call him," Debora said. As she said her name, a circling fog of black danced around her body. The halo had returned. "Our crosses have passed a few times. He visited me once, when my mother was dying. That was when I was not blind. In my village growing up, the Angel of Death was simply a myth. It was said if children came out to play at night he would appear with dark mud and the white skin of shells on his face, a skull man. There were stories of the skull man standing outside a home when there was a dying individual. There were tales the skull man would appear in peoples dreams and they would grow terminally ill days afterwards. I met him the day of my mother's death. Because I was a child, I think he let down his illusion for a fraction of time as he went to my mother, because he thought I would not remember." She shifted in her seat. "I remember. I remember him looming over her bed. The dark lines on his face. He was stunningly beautiful, moreso like a venomous vipor than a gentle flower. A witch never forgets, Faith. And I will never forget the illusory voice and blasphemed visage of Alexandru."
It confused me why she had seen his face, if he only revealed himself to those that were dying. Maybe she is dying. Is that really what the black halo means? Why am I seeing those?
"My, my, Faith Williams. You're intelligent. Some things Death is better off not knowing. One of them is this: he can reveal himself to a supernatural being as well. If it was by accident, though...and a human was to see through his visage I am unsure of what would happen," Debora said, her wrinkled fingers turning my arm over as she pressed her thumb more firmly onto my wrist as she gave me another crooked smile. I felt a little calmer given Debora reminded me of my grandma."How did I see the famous face of Death, if I was not dying? I am not dying now, nor was I when I met him. You see..." Debora's face grew grim. "I'm afraid the curse inflicted onto him is partially my creation."
"I thought God created his curse?"
"No, my dear. The unique curse was sealed by God, but created by witches." Debora's unfocused eyes blinked slowly. "My magic was originally used for imprisonment of demons in hell, then was used against much more powerful beings, such as Lucifer," she explained. "With the forcible growth of our supernatural world came Alexandru, who was half demon even before he was an angel. He is the first and last of that particular creature. When I grew older, my fellow sisters and I had to constructed new kinds of elements we had not used before to secure the fact Alexandru didn't act up after he broke God's law."
Creature. The word gave me the willies."If you were around when Alexandru was turned into a Fallen, wouldn't that make you like..."
"An old fart?" She let out a short laugh. "Yes, I'm afraid witches and warlocks age dreadfully slow."
"Warlocks exist too?"
"Of course! Who do you think would be able to keep up with our mystical bickering!" Debora's face melted from amusement to a more serious expression. It was a little disturbing how quick the transition of expressions were, not going to lie. "On a side note, I must thank you for keeping me company tonight. I don't get many visitors, even when I set up at carnivals for some extra cash. Not many believe in magic. You have to have the strength to be able to hand it mentally, you know?"
I gave her a long look, unable to tell if she could see it through the odd connection she had created with my wrist. "Why does everyone say that I'm strong? If I didn't know any better I'd say I was going insane." I started to feel uncomfortable telling her the truth about me. "I cry over everything and sometimes can't get out of my bed. That doesn't make me courageous or anything like it at all. It makes me ordinary."
Ordinary as I can get.
"You're not strong?" Debora smiled crookedly with her dehydrated lips. "Child, maybe you do not understand the real definition, then, because you are definitely not deterred by the pain and peril in the world, that others would have been too afraid to near. I've seen the hardships you have gone through in your life, and although it appears you have grown weaker, you have actually augmented your judgment and understanding, to become the tenacious young woman sitting across from me. I don't have to have vision to see that you are not ordinary."
I was starting to believe her. That didn't mean she was right, though. "Thank you. That's really nice of you to say that. Thanks for everything, really. I never thought I would feel so"--I shifted in my seat--"hopeful ever again."
Debora's lips twitched up into a smile that seemed sad. "There is one more thing I must tell you, Faith. One more thing, before I must leave you."
I looked to Debora. Her skin had grown a shade lighter.
"Debora?" I slowly reached for her arm.
Her voice was absolutely calm. "Death will have to kill me. It might be immediate. He cannot enter this tent, but that does not mean his powers can't if he is forced to. You will let him do what he must to me. He will hurt you more if I don't say--"
"Debora, please," I said. I didn't want anything bad to happen to the poor old lady. I had grown to like her. "Don't tell me anything you can't."
"Life is repetitive for me, repetitive for all of us who are cursed with immortality." Debora's blank eyes flickered with grey fire. "Death is bliss. Even if it is for a moment. I will see my mother again. Some things are worth taking deadly risks. Love is one of them."
No.
Debora leaned towards me, letting go of my wrist and grabbing my hand with both of hers. "Damocles. That was the first human he fed from. Damocles." An ache started in my chest, reminding me of the cold blooded killer Death really was. "It is easier for Alex...Alexandru, and more efficient for him to take the visage of a subject he has already absorbed."
It was all she had to say for my eyes to start to cloud with tears. Remind me why I had really come to the carnival. To see him. The killer.
Everything about me had gone hollow. "Why would you tell me that?"
"Domocles," Debora said. "It's a name. In Latin, it roughly translates to--" Debora wheezed into her hands and soon was in a coughing fit. I reached for Debora but stopped. She squeezed my hand tightly as if to tell me to let it happen. Let her begin to die.
She'll die before she even tells me. "It translates to what? What does it translate to?"
Then, it was as if the world had gone in slow motion, and I was standing in the middle of it, unmoving. "David. It translates...to David," she coughed once more, this time it sounded like she was choking. Blood formed like a pool on her on her lap, dripping from her lips.
I screamed at the waterfall of blood that came from her lips, splashing the front of my sweatshirt. All at once, I felt the tent shake and the sky boom with thunder and the air chill as my heart gave began its everlasting crescendo. It was the horrible truth I had begged to be absolutely false.
She clawed at her throat, her breaths in chokes of air. "He...is coming... for you. But so are they," Debora wheezed out between scarlet soaked lips. "You...are. . . . not....ordinary." Then without notice, she let out a howl from her throat and whipped her head back, then to the side. I watched, panicking, as Debora lifted her eyes and they were entirely white. My pulse began to race as my arm became entirely hot, as if my blood was rushing to the area.
It happened in a matter of seconds. One moment, I was trying to get Debora to stop convulsing, the next, I was watching Debora's expression fill with pain as she lifted herself up and threw herself on top of me, snagging an arrow in her back which seamlessly flew through the walls of the tent, pelting towards me.
She saved my life.
We fell to the ground. The world spun as I slowly pushed Debora off from me. Blood was seeping from her lips like a river, now. On instinct I tugged the arrow out between her shoulders. She let out a soft cry. Tears formed in her eyes as she continued to convulsed.
I reached for Debora, turned her over and grabbed her thin shoulders. This is what the halo meant. Death. That's what it meant with the girl in the orange poncho too. Why I hadn't seen it with others, I wasn't sure. I had to bring her into the open. I had to get her help!
I felt the overriding urge to pull her from the tent and into the open. Her body was small and burning hot. I wondered if the arrow had partially caused her strange attack, as if there was some sort of poison in it, or if this was all Death's doing.
I gingerly dragged her from the tent and then collapsed on the body next to her. She was turning purple, slowly sinking her chair and sweating as she gasped for her breath. I could feel her pulse through her thin skin and the heat of her body fade, sink into my own. I lay her on her side. Her hand was still feebly in mine and seemed to shrivel as each second passed by. It was so stupid to think bringing her outside would be better.
"HELP! HELP!" I roared at the top of my lungs and willed someone to hear me. I shut my eyes and bowed my head. "Please God, let her live!"
Debora let out a howl. My eyes flew open. I inspected the wound on her back. It was bleeding profusely. Her eyes blinked slowly up at me and started to raise her hand to her right, her eyes following the motion. Debora's raspy voice was hushed to a whisper as she shut her eyes. "Death..."
I tore my gaze up. I didn't see any sign of Death. When I looked back down Debora's eyes were closed. "Debora? Debora!" I shook her shoulders, willing her to open her eyes. "Please!"
I forced every inch of my lung to work. "Someone help!"I couldn't watch her die. Not like this. The carnival's music and screams were so loud my voice was like a mouse. Debora would die alone, with no family. Nobody but me. I looked down at her through clouded eyes. "Don't die! Just hold on!" I whispered. Tears began to spill from my eyes uncontrollably. The black halo around her was fading.
"I SEE YOU!" the shrill sound of Marcy's voice made me whirl around and my throat tightened. Was it right for me to believe everything that Debora said, if she was willing to tell me something so secretive it would give her immediate death?
Marcy was running towards me from at least eighty feet away. But not at the slow, penguin-like run I had always known her for. She was racing like an animal, arms pumping wildly and legs leaping up from the dirt with power.
I started to drag Debora's body away, blood staining my sweatshirt with each pull. I went for one more tug, when Debora's body suddenly poof into a cloud of pixie dust, seeping through my open hands. I stared at my hands and felt a sob rise from my body.
No.
It was then I saw the dark shadow loom over the wall of the tent. I shrunk back, protectively covering Debora's motionless form as a figure slowly immerged from behind the tent.
"You can't have her, Dea..." The shout in my voice trailed off as a pale man loomed around the edge of the tent, and a pair of glowing chlorine eyes appeared under the glow of the football lights. It was the pale figure I had seen the car reflection.
The features of the man were angled and hallowed in at the cheekbones a strange, yet attractive way. A single strand of his hair in the front was a stark white, which was wildly intertwined with golden strands of shoulder-length blonde hair. In his left hand he loosely held a silver bow, which was loaded with an arrow that dripped with mysterious clear liquid.
My lips felt numb and shook as I spoke out loud what I was thinking. "Thomas?" It couldn't be. The thing that stood before me looked ageless. The blue t-shirt he wore stretched across his muscular chest and biceps tightly. Thomas was never that stocky. He was at least a head taller, possibly six feet-four inches.
With his pale skin and newly muscled body, I had no idea what he was, but I knew he was no longer human. Thomas had died. Instinctually, I jumped up away from Debora and stood my ground as he stepped closer, his eyes like two active glaciers against my own baby blues.
He had to be a demon.
I heard the halting sound of 'Marcy's' feet from behind me and felt no assurance. She was no longer wearing her puppy costume, but a black-clad tight leather jumpsuit. Her features were set in stone and along her arm lined five thin lines of blood which seeped blood. It looked like nails had scratched at her arm.
Strapped to her calves were two knives and a small black attachment bag clipped to her belt. Her brown eyes held complete darkness, and her face appeared shadowed. In her hands she held a long dagger which curved and shown in the bright light above.
It was indisputable. I was about to be ganged up on by not one demons, but two demons. Neither of which looked joyful.
Well, alrighty then. Rode on death-trap. Saw black halo around witch, which conclusively means they will die. Got told stories by nice witch. Nice witch told me Death is David. Nice witch died. I can sense Death/David. Thomas is licking his lips. This night should end just pleasantly.
If only.
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