Being Undead

Chapter 24*

Magic. Frederick's eyes widened at very thought of it. "It can't be!" he gasped out.

"But it can, my dear Frederick," returned Anton, grinning from ear to ear. "Come on, I thought you'd know that impossibility's nothing when it comes to the undead world. I mean, look at us, we're supposed to be the stuff of myths, aren't we?"

Frederick had to admit- at least to himself, that is- that Anton did have a point. Everything about what they were was supposed to be impossible. Their existence, their powers, their very nature; it was all surreal when scrutinised in a logical light.

Still... "How?" he asked, still unable to bring himself to believe that he'd witnessed an undead perform magic.

"Magic has always been a possibility for us," Anton shrugged like it was nothing, "for anyone with the right ingredients actually; one of which your beloved son was kind enough to help me tremendously with."

"Daniel!" Frederick groaned when it all came together in his mind. "That's why he returned to the Undead Mansion. He doesn't care about stopping you, he just wants your power."

"Well, he's going to have to do a lot better than you if he's to get it." Anton waved his hand and something flung Frederick against the wall, pinning him firmly there even as he struggled against it.

"So, what's the endgame here, Anton?" asked Frederick as the latter sauntered towards him. "You have magic, what then?"

"What do you think?" He zoomed the rest of the way.

Frederick seemed to muse over it for seconds. "I think you want to be king of the world," he finally replied. That's the only thing that makes sense, he thought.

Thing is, Anton was an original undead, presumably one of the very first to walk the earth and establish the undead community as it was in the present time; and while that did accord him a lot of respect, it was no secret that respect loses its charm after some time. What he had become was a relic; an item, though revered, kept in a corner and only looked upon when references were needed.

Frederick imagined that had been the beginning of his frustration. He must have wanted to remain relevant and so, decided to take back the power, rank and order he had built. Only this time, he had no intent of letting go nor sharing.

And if there's a way for an already powerful undead to become even more powerful, he thought, that way's magic.

"This isn't the right way to mark a return, Anton," Frederick tried explaining, hoping like hell he would listen. "I know you feel out of touch, like you've been rooted out of your own world. But you still have a home with the undeads. We're your family, and if you surrender now, I promise I'll show you just how much love we still have for you."

But Anton only laughed; more like a croak actually. The sound wasn't the smooth welcoming one that a laughter was supposed to be. "Really, Frederick," he said, "a family speech. That's the best you can think to hit me with?" He laughed again.

"But I'll give it to you," he nodded thoughtfully, "A for effort.

"But my dear Frederick, what I'm becoming isn't a king. Kings die. What I am is eternal; divine.

"With my power, everyone, mortal or undead, won't be able to do anything without consulting me first. No man will be able to look at me without trembling with fear. I will be God."

Anton controlled Frederick's face to his then. "Tell me, Frederick," he said, "wouldn't it be such an honour to serve such an entity? I mean, you're one of the greatest undeads in the world today. You can remain one of the greatest forever."

What Frederick returned though when the original undead looked into his eyes was nothing but defiance. "I think you already know my response, Anton," he said without fear. "Pass."

"Well, no one can blame me for not trying." Anton raised his hand and a stake flew into it out of nowhere. "Prepare for a swift death, my dear Frederick," he said, "it's the least mercy I can grant you. After all-" he grinned now "-what's a god without mercy?"

****

Laura zoomed across the park in a deadly blur, taking down rogues left and right as she went. She had been trying for hours to locate Frederick but so far, all her efforts had been in vain. No one seemed to know where he was, and those who did have information to contribute were hesitant to do so for the fear that she was going to get herself- and maybe Frederick too- killed in end.

Goddammit! Laura stopped to throw away the dagger in her hand in anger; it was useless anyway. The weapon had become so bloody to the hilt from many times she had used it to slash across rogues that it was slippery in her grip and she could no longer properly handle it.

"Die!" she suddenly heard one of the rogues shout behind her.

"Oh you die," she returned, very annoyed at the intrusion and she turned to stop the kick with her fist before decking the guy with so much force that the sound of his ribs fracturing echoed through the park in spite of the noise.

Laura thought to finish the move with a stab to the chest, but just as she reached in her pocket, she realised that all her daggers had been used. Well, that's going to be a problem, she groaned to herself.

Seeing that she was unarmed, the rogue got back to his feet as he removed a dagger from his pocket, smiling. "Looks like someone's about to get into a whole lot of trouble." His smile was a full-blown grin now.

"Well, don't count me out of it just way." She took an attacking stance.

Truth be told, Laura had no intentions of attacking first. In fact, the book Daniel had given her for practice warned strictly against first strikes. "Always let your opponent attack first, honey," she heard the instructions take on Daniel's voice in her mind. "Cos in a first strike, you can know all of a man's strength and weakness."

And just like mind Daniel predicted, Laura's assailant attacked first and she spotted his weak point. He's favouring the left, she assessed; that was the side of the ribs she broke.

He came in on the right, attacking high in an aim for her neck. Unfortunately, that left exposed at his sides, which Laura took full advantage as she bent down and watched the dagger slice air over her head, rolling before landing a well-weighed punch in his left side.

"Ow!" the assailant yelped as he felt Laura's punch connect and pain surged through him than he thought possible. He went down on one knee, disoriented by the pain, and she kicked the dagger out of his hand into the air; catching it and making a good job of slicing his head cleanly off his neck before he even had the chance to admire her lethality.

Watching the rogue disintegrate into ashes before her eyes calmed down a bit and she took to searching his clothes for weapons; discovering two hidden daggers. That has got to make do, she reasoned; her next option was a sword and she still couldn't trust herself with a long blade yet.

Just then, a scent suddenly reached Laura and she stood straight. Frederick, she realised; he was close.

She looked around as carefully as she could spot was a faraway cabin in her sight. "God, the cabin!" it suddenly seemed to dawn on her. "That's where Anton must be holed up."

Quickly, Laura zoomed towards the cabin, not stopping until she reached its door. But just as she kicked the door down, she skidded to a stop. She had found Frederick just like she had wanted all along, but seemly only in time to watch him die at Anton's hands.