Everyone would sell their soul for the right price.
For Beck Calloway, that price was not their own. Years after their mother made them the collateral in a demonic deal, Beck remains in Fate: a small town between this life and the next, where Soulle...
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THE RAINDROPS ARE MY TEARS, the clouds my eyes, and the ground a demon soaking up my raw emotion.
Melodrama has always been my specialty, according to my English teachers and theatre directors. They saw potential where my mother found complaints. I learned to paint my written words with the colors of my mind, and make an audience cry or laugh with subtle gestures. Books allowed me to escape into their pages.
When the shadow portal clears to reveal an empty storefront, and I realize that Rinzor has only teleported me outside Clementine's door, I feel more bound by Fate than ever. In the seconds that passed, he's wiped it clean. The building is barren, the interior is dark, and even the stained glass fruit door is a solid, boring pane. I never thought I'd miss the gaudy exterior, but the sight of beige siding sinks my heart into the ocean's depths.
Rinzor didn't need a clean-up crew. He needed an excuse to send me off.
An excuse to erase Clementine and Horace's memory. Even now, my recollections grow fuzzy. The rest of the Gloom District may forget their presence if the angels make it so, but I refuse. I'll hold onto the remnants of powdered sugar dusting the floor—the only thing that remains from the monstrous encounter.
We have pastries from the new bakery.
Horace's words bring tears to my eyes. If the attack never happened, he'd likely have invited me down to the new bakery for a treat. I would have declined just like every other time. Right now, I wish I had one more opportunity.
But when Fate is your second chance, you don't get a third.
It doesn't mean I can't do something in his stead. He saved my life, after all. The least I can do is entertain his unasked question and find some bakery over in Sunset Harbor. I suppose it can't be terrible if even Rinzor enjoys their pastries.
I force myself to step away from the now-boring front window. Rain assaults me once more as I leave the sanctity of the front awning. Lavender hair clings to my face and slaps my eyes, but for once, I don't brush it away. I let it flop about on its own as I trudge back down the ever-damp sidewalks.
The streets are oddly quiet. Only the occasional Soulless walks the sidewalk, and the only car I've seen was Clementine's eye-assaulting orangemobile.
Silence permeates my numbing senses. It makes my walk to the Gloom District's arch feel both shorter and longer at the same time. The crimson and onyx portal swirls with ominous potential inside the chipped marble arch it calls home. Each district is separated by a pathway of varying upkeep—some, like the structure in my home of Blossom Lane, are kept in pristine condition. The Gloom District's is one of the least attended, with crumbling edges and demonic talon marks raked down the sides.
It keeps us separate yet within reach. Less cared for districts such as this one can escape to a new part of town for a few hours and escape their dreary existence. The "higher class" only traverse in their direction if there is something of import. I'm shocked there haven't been any drownings in this area yet with how far they keep their noses to the skies.
