Days of the Dead Book 1: The Thief's End

Chapter 1: Watch closely now

Kit
Everything you are about to read is completely true. All of this, really happened. And yes. In a lot of ways it's all my fault. But that's all right. I'll take the blame, here at the end.
But let me start at the beginning.
My master is forbidding me from dueling with my arch nemesis. I think this is because he is a mean person who doesn't want me to be happy. I mean. That goes without saying, however. I think I ought to be allowed to duel with my arch nemesis. I think that would be a lovely little treat for me. After all this time.
But allow me to introduce myself. I'm Kit Wren. And five years ago out in the swamp I found an ancient necklace, which instantly transported me to some other world, which is where my master enslaved me. His demon did. Because I somehow have magic in me, and I was 'using that to attack people' and 'needed a hobby'. And now I serve my master. Using my powers I have become a professional thief. Space and time hold no meaning for me. With each and every treasure I steal, I hope to earn my master's grace and win back one thing.
My voice.
Fearing my power, his demons bound my lips shut. I cannot speak to utter spells. It hinders me only slightly. I can still steal the artifacts I need to travel to other lands, and I can still rob the rich and powerful who don't bother to look twice at a mute boy.
But there is another. A wizard more powerful than I. One whom limits hold no meaning for. And I want to find him. If I could take his power maybe I could get my voice back on my own. I suspect this is why my master doesn't want me to fight him. But no matter. I was trailing Templars for two weeks before they led me right to this mysterious wizard. By then my corporeal form was too weak I couldn't fight him. But I've given him the invitation. Come and find me. Let's play. I do love games.
No matter. I'll win in the end. Or die trying. Somehow. I don't much care. You see, it's been five years that I've been chained thus, with no voice. Nothing but a lifetime of playing the thief in the night. And one day they will all pay. I don't just want to be free anymore. I want power. I want riches too. I want them all as afraid of me as they deserve to be. I've spent so much of my life afraid.
I roll the ring over in my hand. Tonight's conquest. My master gave me this. I didn't even have to steal it for myself. I wonder what I'll find? It's bound to be fun.
The window air conditioner ticks and then clicks off, as the power fails. I sigh, bending my head down into the pillow. Not again.
"Kit! Oh, good, you're up," my mother says, leaning in my room. I shove the ring underneath my pillow,  carefully sitting up. I nod, smiling a little for her.
For all she knows, for all anyone knows, I ran out into the swamp after my father beat me. It was a fight. Me and her, and him. He was hitting me and she tried to stop him so he hit her. I went and got a shovel and hit him. He wasn't dead. Well, we both ran off, she told me to run and hide and wait till he was sober, we ran different ways so he couldn't catch us.
Well, I found the necklace in the swamp, where I ran to hide as I always do. I have no fear of gators. Nor anything that wasn't my father's drunken fists. I saw no reason to fear. It seemed the worst had already happened. Well, I was in another world and quickly enslaved by my master. And for all that my mother knows, I showed up a week later, without a voice. And my father died the night I came back. Mysteriously. His brain started bleeding.
Because my magic came back with me.
"You're up, um—don't worry about that right now, it's fine, just get ready for school," she says, smiling bravely. She always does that, smiles bravely. As if that will stop her underfed, mute, openly gay son from being murdered here. It's the summer of 1986. And we're in the Deep South. You kiss one boy while drunk you're gay for life it seems. It's fine she actually doesn't care beyond the getting murdered part. It's lovely she doesn't know about all the other crimes which are so much more likely to get me murdered.
I nod, getting up and going to get a shirt, making a quick hand gesture to indicate that I'll fix the electricity.
"Don't worry about it now, yeah, you don't want to be late," she smiles, nicely, "You look tired."
I robbed the Vatican last night.
I smile, pulling on a shirt and picking up my bag.
"I um—I'm gonna work late tonight will you be okay?" She asks.
I nod. More than. All right don't look at me like that I'm aware that the previous implies I have never actually been okay. Whatever.
"Just um, just don't worry I'll call Jeb next door about the power, don't go on the roof by yourself—and there's soup in the fridge have that or the tuna, and I'll take which ever you don't want for lunch tomorrow okay?—really?" She laughs, as I hold up a piece of paper I keep on me at all times. It reads MOM I'm fine—(said in a condescending tone by a bratty teenager).
"You're so silly," she says, smiling as I grin.
I shrug, eating one piece of toast as I check my book bag. I am tired after last night. I hold up a 'c' shaped hand to ask for coffee. We never learned sign language, stubborn for different reasons. Convinced that my voice would come back, plus we have no actual way of learning. 1986 North Carolina isn't the most progressive place on the planet, or in the astral realm as it happens. The doctor said they couldn't do anything and left it at that. I get that it's magic that took my voice and we can't fix it, but it's the lack of effort that bothers me.
"Here, yeah, I made some fresh, I got a new can at work," she gives me a cup.
I smile, toasting her.
"How did that happen?" She asks, pointing to my bruised knuckles.
People didn't want me stealing from the Vatican, as it happened.
I shrug and make a universal 'I don't know' face.
"I worry about you," she says,
I roll my eyes.
"Okay okay, but you'd tell me if something were happening at school? They're not picking on you are they?" She asks.
I shake my head no very convincingly.
"Just stay away from Aster Dean okay?" She asks.
I nod very nicely, smiling.
We finish up breakfast and get in the old pick up. A relic possibly from the Stone Age, blue on the outside past the rust, and torn fabric seats. I note it's nearly on E. I sigh. My plunder needs to get a lot more tangible, but I also can't explain spoils to my mother. A problem for another time, I have a test in World Hist. And I should be enjoying myself. I've got a new adventure and the evening off as my mother will be working.
And it's almost the end of term. All summer. Sneaked off to a Viking ship and at one point a pirate ship in some weird alternate reality and have enough treasures to bring to my master and plenty of fun.  I put my hand to my neck. I keep most of the amulets I find, each a different door to a different realm. Certain ones are more fun than others and I can go back again and again for a decent time and decent treasure. Time passes the same there as here, in that if I've not been back for two weeks, two weeks have passed there. It works, mostly. I'm mute so I have little explaining to do. Some of them can see my mouth is sewn shut with evil magic, but that's not really my concern.
We pull up outside the high school, and I hug my mother quickly before sliding out, tugging my overfull backpack. I think I could grow someday. I think that would be nice. Someday before I die or get murdered to not look like I belong at the middle school. Oh well, clearly not going to happen.
Oh look, there's Aster. Time for some fun.
I jog to catch up with him, surrounded by his cool friends. Aster Dean is popular. Captain of the football team, girlfriend is on the cheer squad, going to go to Duke, drives his own car, popular. So very sad he kissed the town mute while drunk and now the town mute has yet to let him forget it. Crying shame. Because you see, everyone's got to have their gay awakening at some point. Sometimes it's when the town mute takes his shirt off and reveals he has abs, from being a jewel thief by night. And the town mute isn't wasted because he gets alcohol in other realties but you're a good boy so you're a lightweight. and you're drunk and you walk up and kiss him and he gives you the best kiss of your goddamn little Southern Baptist life in front of your girlfriend. So you blame it on the town mute and you get away with it.
Except you still have *feelings* about that kiss and the way his hair hangs almost over those impossible to forget amber eyes. Don't look at me like that. I am the protagonist here this is my tragedy I have to describe myself sexily nobody else is going to do it.
I jog up to meet Aster and his party, tugging on his arm.
"Get off me," Aster says, face going bright red. He's wearing his letter jacket, what a complete nerd. He shakes his arm.
His friends laugh and heckle me, that's cool. I now have his wallet.
"Get off. You're such a freak. Can't you go and be a fag somewhere else?" He sneers, pushing me away. I fall down, dramatically, on the pavement. A few people laugh.
I get up and walk inside, going to my locker to sort through his wallet. Movie tickets, and—twenty bucks? Score. I pocket the money and pass him in the hall, slipping his wallet back in his pocket.
Don't view Aster badly, by the way, by that little display of homophobia. I will humbly say that he is one of the least offensive people I'm about to associate with. Considering my master is gonna show up eventually. He hasn't called for me but it's better if I show up on my own terms. Healthier for me, if you will. Even healthier if I show up with treasure.
I walk down the hall, slipping into the boy's bathroom just as first period is starting. A couple of kids try to walk in, see me, then leave. I wave and smile to get through the point that I'm crazy. They of course don't want to get near me because I'm gay so I'm disgusting. I'm over it, honestly and now it's just an easy way to clear a room. I suppose.
Aster comes in after a moment, "You know, there are easier ways to get my attention."
I smile shrugging.
He rolls his eyes, "What?"
I shrug a little, shaking my bangs out of my face.
"You're so weird," he sighs, stepping forward and placing a tentative hand on my chest. Then he slides it down, feeling the rock solid muscles of my stomach.
I lean up and kiss his neck, very quickly.
"Don't—we can't do this—," he says, stepping backward.
I walk over to the bathroom wall, getting a marker from my pocket. I write on the stained, heavily graffitied blue tile: You can do anything you want. Especially to me.
"No, I con't—this is wrong what—look I only came to be nice," he takes the movie ticket stubs from his pocket, "It's this Friday. Sissy can't go she's got to study I said I'd help. Just—look I think it's pretty obvious you don't have any friends, or money. Just take your mom or something it's Labyrinth David Bowie's in it you're always drawing him."
I take the ticket stubs, slowly.
"Look, I don't think you're a bad person, and I'm sorry I called you that earlier I can't—look it's not easy. And I'm sorry they all know you're gay now, I really am—but I don't owe you anything," he sighs, going to the door.
I beat him to the door, pinning it closed.
"What is you want, Kit?" He sighs.
I write on the door, still pinning it closed.
I want a kiss. I want a long, movie kiss that makes the world seem all right. And I want to live happily ever after. And I know that doesn't happen to gay boys not in the movies. So I'd really like it to happen to me. Not because I love you but because I want to be loved. Not because I deserve it either. But because I don't.
He sighs, putting his face in his hand, "Would it kill you to write these very dramatic things on bits of paper? And not on the walls anywhere anyone can read them?"
I scribble on the door again, face set with anger, I DESERVE TO BE HEARD GODDAMN YOU even if I don't have a voice. Someone should hear me. I'd like it to be you.
He sighs, and tugs the door open and walks out. I sigh and lean against the wall. I personally think that I should get my voice back at least long enough to say 'fuck' I think I've earned it.