• Chapter 8: Good, Bad, and the Disastrous Ramifications of Living

    “Tell me. What have you done today?” asked a man hiding in the darkness of the alleyway.
    “Aeulusiò di Aria has been killed, just like you ordered me to,” said the tall Reaper leaning on the wall of a building.
    “And do you remember anything about your former life?”
    “He was the one who left me unconscious.”
    The man walked out, his body sheathed in a long, yellow cloak with the Reaper insignia on the right sleeve. His face was covered in the shadow of his hood, but Umbras could see yellow irises staring outward. He was looking at the sky, the stars twinkling in his eyes. “Do you feel remorse for killing him?”
    “I feel that it was unnecessary to destroy an entire apartment. But no, I do not feel any remorse for my actions.”
    “Do you remember your name?” inquired the man after a moment of silence.
    “Umbras.”
    “Do you remember your true name?”
    Reaper Umbras shook his head under his hood. “Do you know it?”
    “I can’t tell you,” replied the man.
    “When they said that I was ‘the Immortal’, what did they mean?”
    The man stayed silent, which bothered Umbras. “You survived a Resurrection. The first case in the history of Paralleliux. You managed to beat death somehow.”
    Umbras looked up to the sky, as well. The moon disappeared behind a cloud. The stars seemed to twinkle away from life as the cloud passed by. A car passed by, splashing a puddle as the man finally spoke again. “Do you know your next mission, Umbras?”
    “What is it?”
    “Find and destroy a Wraith that is lurking in this very street. Use any means necessary. I will tell you your name afterwards.”
    Reaper Umbras stared at the man strangely. A bribe? Is he bribing me?
    “Well? Go!”
    Umbras nodded and ran down the street when he saw a street light die out. Wraiths disrupt electromagnetic energy. He ran over a puddle and made a group of rats scatter as he heard his equipment jingle under his robe. Tonight was a quiet night. And that was strange. Just minutes ago, he killed his ‘killer’ without remorse. Now he was running down a quiet street somewhere in Manhattan, looking for a Wraith. The award now: learning his name.
    But he remembered talking about friendship to Aeulusiò. Why? It was as if someone else had been speaking for him. Had they been former friends? Images of a young, green-haired boy smiling at him filled his head. One of those images, though, scared him. It was of the boy holding a pale, severed forearm in his left hand, and Umbras’s own right forearm missing. What does this mean? He rolled up his sleeve. A slender, silver gauntlet was what made up his right forearm now. He remembered awakening once in a hospital to see doctors dismantling a larger, chunkier version of the claw he has now.
    The gauntlet was around the width of a normal arm with skeletal fingers. It was durable enough to withstand pressures that could easily snap his spine in two and light enough to allow him to swing his arm just like anybody else.
    Another street light died. And then another. A car that still had its headlights on turned off completely. He was getting closer. He could hear his cell phone crying for a charger. And then it died as well.
    “What the heck’s goin’ on here?” stammered a man as he walked up the street. Human.
    “Seems like there’s a power outage,” said a woman who walked near him. Umbras stood behind a pole, in its shadow.
    “Wonder what it is?” muttered the man. Any human from Umbras’s distance wouldn’t have heard him say that. As soon as he was sure the two humans would not notice him anymore, he continued up the street. He saw something move at the top of one of the apartment buildings that lined the street.
    He etched his claw into the brick wall of the apartment and climbed up, his fingers between the cracks in the wall. If he was sure he was not within range of a Wraith, he’d teleport to the top. But, since he was not sure, it would be a death wish to get near a Wraith. There are many accounts of Reapers sealing their dooms by teleporting near a Wraith.
    He had reached the top just to see a giant, grotesque creature floating at the center of the roof. It was illuminated by the moonlight, the chains that dangled off its neck reflecting the silvery light. Its eyes were bug-like, and it had jagged, ruined teeth that were showing in a horrific smile that split its face in two. Its body was draped in a gold coat that belonged in the 18th century. It hadn’t noticed him yet, so it was safe. Wraiths cannot see well in the dark.
    Umbras unsheathed his blade and held it with his left hand. His right claw was hovering just above the grip of his pistol.
    The Wraith turned its large body to show that it had a rusty blade held in its hand. A white beard reflected the silver moonlight as it walked slowly to Umbras. It had finally noticed him.
    “Damn you’re ugly,” murmured Umbras as the Wraith continued its slow path. The Wraith stopped, growled, and then moved again, this time moving at an unimaginable speed. It was soon behind Umbras, and nearly slashed him across his back, but Umbras already took out his pistol and shot it in its skull. It staggered backwards, nearly falling off the building, as pieces of its skull fell to the floor and crumbled.
    The Wraith lunged forward after regaining its balance. Umbras swung it away with his blade, probably cracking a few of its bones. As it rolled on the floor, the creature pulled two pistols out and started to shoot at Umbras with noisy shots. This thing could blow our cover if this continues, though Umbras as he dodged the pistol balls that flew out of the Wraith’s weapons. He shot back at it, stylishly blocking any other shots with his sword. The Wraith’s skull continued to fall apart as more and more bullets cracked through it. But that wouldn’t kill it.
    A Wraith is near invincible to conventional attacks. It would take a million times more than all of the armies in both the Earth and Paralleliux to take down a child with conventional weapons. To defeat a Wraith, sunlight is needed to kill it. The problem about that was it was the middle of the night. A vacuum, no matter how ridiculous it sounds, is the second most reliable thing to use in a battle against a Wraith, which thrives on air.
    Umbras suddenly felt a strong pain on his shoulder. He looked to see a ball bounce to the floor. He’d been shot. Bleeding, no. But he was shot. The Wraith started to reload again. Umbras saw a door to the staircase that leads to the inside of the building. Maybe there’s a vacuum in there.
    He lunged at the door as the Wraith lifted the gun and pulled the trigger, shooting his ankle. Umbras crashed through the door and fell down the stairs behind it. All three hundred and forty-nine steps. He got up, the pain spreading through his body, and limped down the corridor. The heavy footsteps of the Wraith filled the air as the lights flickered into darkness. Umbras looked back. In the flicker of a light, the Wraith had walked down the final step. “Quick little monster,” snapped Umbras as he punched open a door next to him. The janitor’s closet. That was lucky.
    A ball flew behind his head as he walked into the room and pulled out a wireless vacuum. It was whining for charge. Only a few seconds left. The Wraith turned around the doorway and lifted a pistol to Umbras, who pulled the trigger of the vacuum. It started to suck at the air, panicking the Wraith as it did, but then died.
    Umbras roared and threw the vacuum at the Wraith. It fazed through its head and crashed into the wall. It’s getting stronger. But I don’t need the vacuum if I have my Oscuro… The creature lifted the pistol again, just to have it slapped out of its hand by Umbras’s blade. The Reaper slammed the floor with his foot. It weakened, and then gave away quickly, letting him fall ten feet to the next floor. The lights started to die as the Wraith poked its head over the hole. The Reaper grabbed a nearby picture frame. Who would have thought these humans’ need to decorate would have been so useful? pondered Umbras as he threw the picture frame at the Wraith. The creature’s skull cracked like an egg, and then the body crashed into the floor. The lights died, leaving Umbras in total darkness. Perfect.
    Umbras conjured a ball of violet energy in his each hand. The Wraith’s body illuminated with a dim yellow light as it got back up. It unsheathed its rusty cutlass and lunged at Umbras, who threw a ball of energy at its face, pulverizing it into dust. The creature’s body fell to the floor, dropping the rusty cutlass. It fell with a loud clang that alarmed the humans around them, as a tall man walked out in his pajamas, rubbing his head.
    “Who’s there?” snapped the man. “Who are you?”
    Umbras stayed silent and walked into the darkness. Too late. The man’s hand was already placed on his shoulder.
    “Answer my question.”
    “I don’t think that is of your concern,” said Umbras coolly. He slapped the man’s hand away, beating back the temptation to cut it off. The man stared back with anger at the darkness. Umbras still stood there, his silhouette dimly showing. He looked at the door to the man’s apartment. Light poured from it. “There’s a blackout. How do you have light in your apartment?”
    “Now that is not of your concern,” snapped the tall man. “Just go away.”
    Umbras stared suspiciously at the man as he walked back into the apartment, closing the door and leaving him in total darkness again. He shook his head and went for a window at the end of the corridor, opened it, and jumped to the street below. He felt minor pain from the sixty-foot drop, numbing the pain that ate at his ankle a bit. The street lights flickered back to life as he limped back down the street. Now to find out what my real name is…
    “I was worried you were hurt,” called a voice from behind. Umbras turned around to see the man in the yellow cloak standing at the corner of the block, next to a trash can filled with paper litter. “What is it? Can you not heal yourself, Reaper Umbras?”
    Umbras jumped. He forgot that he could regenerate. But wait. Did he know that before? He felt the pain in his ankle ease as the man in the yellow robe walked down to him. “What is my name?” inquired Umbras when the man was just a few feet away from him.
    “I cannot tell you that, Umbras,” said the man. Umbras grimaced. “No, no. It is not I who will tell you. But I do know somebody who will tell you.”
    “Who?” questioned Umbras, anxiety filling his stomach.
    “His name is Francis Skotely. You knew him. The only human that you actually spoke to.”
    Umbras felt a head ache form in his head as he remembered the round man that used to work at a building somewhere in Manhattan. The yellow-robed man handed him a piece of paper. “Follow these directions, and you will find him. He should be still working at the desk,” said the man. “That’s an order.”
    Umbras nodded again. He took off his hood and shook his head to unfurl his blue hair. His gray irises reflected the moonlight as he turned around, the paper crumpled in his fist. “What should happen if you were to tell me my name?”
    “A different set of paths would be opened,” answered the man enigmatically. Umbras looked back over his shoulder. The man disappeared.

    Meanwhile…
    “Reapers?” chuckled the Elite farthest to Viola’s right. He was average in height, had curly, auburn hair, and had sea-green irises over black sclera. He wore a black tunic over a black hakama with a white skull insignia at the openings. “This is going to be fun.”
    “It seems that our hostage is a little too important,” murmured the Elite directly in front of Viola, standing in the shadow of a tree. He had arsenic-colored hair that covered his right eye and extremely pale skin. His arms were bony thin, and his eyes were the same color as his hair. He wore a black robe that had white lining the openings, and spoke with a slight, Hispanic accent.
    “Maybe it’s the knowledge she holds, Adeiazo,” said Exitius, who stood behind Viola. The skeletal-looking Elite turned around.
    “What knowledge, Exitius?”
    “You know what I am talking about, Adei.”
    “The Nocturnal Arsenal?” interrupted the auburn-haired Elite. “She knows where it is?”
    “Yes, she does.”
    “Then why is she here? Why don’t we just kill her right here?” The Elite nearly unsheathed his katana, which was strapped to his side, when the female elite grabbed his wrist. She had silky, white gloves that covered her forearms, with a white gown that had black lining the openings. Her hair was shoulder-length and silvery white, and she had brown eyes that reflected the moonlight.
    “I don’t think that killing her will be a good answer, Aftok,” said the female Elite, her voice soothing Viola’s tense thoughts.
    Then what are they going to do with me? pondered Viola. “Why keep me, then?” she finally questioned.
    “That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” said the Japanese-like Elite. His fangs were longer than an average vampire’s and he had a dark mark on the palm of each of his hands. “What do you think, Adeiazo?”
    The grim-looking Elite looked at Aftok, and then at the female Elite. “I believe that we may have an advantage if we keep her.”
    “Which is exactly why I’m sending you with her, Adei,” said Exitius quickly as he looked at the Washington Monument. Viola followed his gaze to see the Reapers descending from the monument. The leader made it down first, and then quickly closed the gap between them.
    “Look who dropped in,” snickered Aftok.
    “Give me the girl and no one would be hurt,” murmured the Reaper. He had a pentacle design tattooed to the back of his hands, which were visible when he raised his hands, as if Viola was just some object. Reaper Chaos. The Reaper of space.
    “Oh someone’s gonna get hurt, alright.” Aftok unsheathed his blade.
    The other two Reapers made it to the area, getting ready to summon their weapons. “You are being irrational,” continued the Reaper leader.
    Adeiazo stepped in between the men, Aftok in his battle stance and the Reaper standing calmly. “I suggest that you leave now, Reaper. We do not want to start a battle.”
    The Reaper to the leader’s right spat, “Wouldn’t want to start a battle? We already have about a century ago!” His voice sounded young compared to the leader’s cold, dark voice. He had a zigzag design on the sleeves, and had black gloves on, like most of the Reapers. Reaper Blixt. The Reaper of lightning.
    “You wanna start a new one now, buddy?” snapped Aftok. He altered between floating and standing on the ground. He was that eager to start a fight.
    Reaper Anthos, Reaper of nature, hummed, “Seems like someone had a little too much sugar today, hm.” He was the one who voted for Nocturn to stay on his rank because of his crippled arm. Viola felt like slapping him across the face. But she was still too shocked to do much. If he had voted for Nocturn’s promotion, then maybe Nocturn would still be alive. Not in America, but still alive…
    “Heh, and the flower boy speaks,” spat Aftok. “Just run off Flowerboy.”
    “There will be no ‘running off’ until we get the girl.” Reaper Chaos took off his hood to show the face of a man in his forties, with a scar that ran between his hazel eyes. His hair was short and silver. He had a scowl on his face as he reached for the handle of his weapon.
    “That’s too bad,” said Exitius. “Looks like other measures would be needed, eh?”
    “Humph. It seems so.” Reaper Chaos was another Reaper who voted for Nocturn’s rank to stay the same.
    Reaper Anthos took off his hood, showing brown hair that was tinted with black and violet eyes that was wild at the top and ran down over his shoulders. He had a single fang that protruded under his lip. “I guess this will be interesting.”
    “Is combat truly necessary, Exitius?” questioned Adeiazo.
    “It seems so,” answered the female Elite for him.
    “Adeiazo. Remember what I ordered you to do. Delea, make sure Aftok doesn’t kill himself,” whispered Exitius.
    “Can I chop their heads now?” questioned Aftok, his fingers dancing delightfully over the hilt of his katana. Exitius nodded.
    And as if by magic, Aftok unsheathed his blade and nearly impaled Reaper Blixt, but Chaos intervened with his sword, which was a fencing saber. Anthos pulled out two dark-pink guns with thorns protruding under each barrel. One thorn was ready to fire on each gun. Delea reached into her breasts to pull out a Kris that shined white with the moonlight. Exitius conjured silver balls of energy around each of his fists as he told Adeiazo, “Go. We’ll keep in touch.”
    Adeiazo nodded and grabbed Viola quickly by the wrist, and then pulled her down the path into a garden. Viola expected to be able to break out of his bony grasp, but he proved to be stronger than he seemed. Typical vampire. “Where are you taking me?” she managed to ask.
    Adeiazo did not answer, instead half-dragging Viola deeper into the garden. There has to be something that can get me out of this, pondered Viola. She looked up to see the branches of trees, covering them from the moonlight. She shifted her gaze to ground. Light seeped through the trees in irregular patterns. Nothing that could help.
    Then she noticed how Adeiazo was avoiding the moonlight. Every time he nearly stepped into the moonlight, he shifted quickly to either side, completely dodging it. He’s allergic to the light? It was a strange medical condition that had been discovered only recently. The humans had found this out (not that any of them remembered soon after).
    Viola fished in her pockets with her free hand and felt something cool and smooth. He’s not a very good kidnapper if he left my other hand free. She pulled out her cell phone from her pocket and nearly smiled to herself. They ran through a densely vegetated area of the garden, so moonlight could not seep through. Viola moved her gaze to the greenery around them. It’s amazing how the plants here see everything, but cannot do anything about it. Whatever happens happened. But the Dieu de la Mort are trying to stop the inevitable. It seems like we are just afraid of the future…
    Adeiazo made a sharp turn, completely dodging a large area of moonlight. Viola outstretched her arm with the cell phone, which reflected the moonlight to the Elite’s head. Adeiazo’s reaction was both sudden and frightening.

    Adeiazo felt a slight tingling feeling at the back of the head and stopped completely. The tingling turned into pain that burned excruciatingly through his skull. He turned around to see a light that blinded him completely, and then he roared, despite himself. He stepped back, just to set his foot into another puddle of moonlight. His leg was safe, as he was wearing clothes, but his hand was mercilessly burned by the reflected sunlight from the moon. He roared again, feeling his skin peel back as he stepped back more. Only one chance.
    He let his body move into full moonlight. He felt his hairs turn hard and jagged. His fingers elongated as flaps of skin fall down and come together, creating wings. His nose turned into a snout, while his eyes became fully black and his hair grew into every portion of his body, ripping his clothes into shreds. His fangs grew as well, and every tooth in his mouth became knife-like. He grew an extra set of teeth behind the first and roared an ear-piercing scream that made the grass around him wither. Viola felt herself weaken upon hearing him.
    “Look what I became!” he screamed uncharacteristically. His toenails became claws and his legs became double-jointed. “Do you know what I am now?”
    Viola only stared at him. And it was obvious was the answer to the question was. Adeiazo Solus had become what no vampire had become in centuries. He had become what every human had nightmares of. He had become a Lamiae Vespertilionis.

    Meanwhile…
    Umbras opened the door to the building and quickly ran into the thin middle-aged man that was sorting papers at the front desk. “May I help you?”
    “Do you know of a Francis Skotely?”
    “Francis Skotely? Ah, the manager? He went—”
    “That’ll be me,” interrupted a raspy voice from behind. Umbras turned around to see a portly man at his fifties with a finished cigar in his fingers. His eyes seemed abnormal as his gaze flickered from every inch of Umbras’s body. “Well? Whaddaya want?”
    A human? A mere human would know my name? Umbras kept himself from chuckling. Highly uncharacteristic. “Do you own this place?”
    “Yep,” answered Francis, his tone changing to a friendlier tone. “This whole entire beauty is mine! You wanna buy a suite, or what?”
    Umbras took off his hood, and Francis’s eyes gaped wide open. He dropped the finished cigar bud on the floor as Umbras walked forward. “Do you know me?”
    Francis nodded as he stepped forward himself. “N-Nocturn?”
    Umbras stepped back. Nocturn?
    “Nocturn! Where’ve you been all this time, kid?” chuckled the portly man.
    “What do you mean? Have I gone somewhere?”
    “Are you okay? You left a while ago and haven’t shown up for a day. I figured since you haven’t told me about it that it’d be short!”
    Umbras shook his head. “My name is Nocturn?”
    “Nocturn von Shwarze,” said the man, a slight tinge of concern in his voice. “What? You forget your name or something?”
    Yes. “I lived here?”
    “Sure did! But, um, you bump your head, kid? Cuz you’re starting to really scare me.”
    “Show me my suite,” ordered Umbras, completely ignoring Francis’s display of concern.
    “Um, sure, kid. Tom, show Nocturn to his suite. Suite 456.”
    “Yes sir,” said the thin man. He walked out from behind the desk and motioned Umbras to follow him into the elevator. He pressed the button for the fourth floor and then escorted him to Suite 456. “Here it is. I believe you have the keys?”
    “Oh, yeah.” Umbras reached under the rug in front of the door and plucked a key out. He placed it into the lock and twisted it, and then opened the door. The thin man had gone away as he closed it behind him. And then Umbras dropped the key like it was a steaming pot. How did I know where the key came from? He looked down to his robe. Why do I feel so uncomfortable in these clothes suddenly? He walked into a room that had a closet of clothes that suddenly seemed more familiar and comfortable. But he did not bother to strip off the Reaper robe. Something stopped him from doing so.
    There was a bathroom that smelled homely, and all of the cabinets in the kitchen were suddenly memorized. He suddenly felt thirsty when he saw a can of Coke, and drank it. Aren’t Paralleliuns allergic to these drinks?
    He sat on the couch and felt as if a ghost passed through his body as he touched the remote control that sat on the arm. He noticed a blanket that slung over the back of the couch. Somebody slept there recently. Curled up like a cat. Petite and pretty. She was…she was…
    “My friend…” murmured Umbras to himself. No. His name was not Umbras anymore. His name is Nocturn. Nocturn von Shwarze, ranked twenty-seven of the Dieu de la Mort.