Era of Greed [✔ COMPLETE] (Chrim Chronicles #1)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Poppy van Velsen

Thin fog had set in, its pale clouds as high as my knees, announcing the end of Chrim's summer. A shimmer hit the boy's dark sleek hair as he slowly wandered on the bridge arching above the pond and glanced around with a dazed expression. The water of the pond was a darker green than the weeping willows hanging above it, an ugly shade of green in contrast with the high and bright grass and its dying flowers.

I appeared next to the boy and slightly bent my face to meet his eyes. Upon seeing me, his dark eyes widened and a smile appeared on his olive skinned face.

But his smile faded away quickly. "I'm dead, aren't I?"

It was the miserable pressing cold that had made him recognize death, I knew. I gave him a broken smile and nodded. "I'm Poppy. What's your name?"

He lowered his eyes and pouted his lips. "Charlie."

With my hands clenched around the handrails of the bridge I gazed at the murky water below. I remembered coming to this bridge with Farren and Frank every Thursday to feed the ducks. Though Farren would throw the pieces of bread at the ducks instead of to them, laughing as they startled and flew up. Upon leaving, Frank would always be worried we hadn't fed them enough, terrified the ducks were still hungry, and I knew he'd secretly return later with a new loaf of bread.

There were no ducks in the pond today. An emptiness stared back at me. It frightened me how neither my reflection nor Charlie's appeared, instead the pond only reflected the weeping willows behind us and the cloudy sky above us, confirming we were nothing more than air.

"Charlie, have you seen a bright light?"

Charlie glanced around and shook his head. "I don't see anything."

I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, you will."

He nodded and grabbed my hand. As we silently walked through the park, his small fingers clutching to my palm, I realized how good it felt to be able to talk to someone – and actually being heard. I used to think I knew what loneliness was, raising the twins on my own and never having a chance to live like a teenager should. How wrong I had been.

"How did you die?" Charlie asked.

"A very bad person killed me." I bent to pick up a stone, my other hand still clutching to Charlie's, and threw it in the water. "How about you, how did you die?"

A frown appeared on his face and he shrugged. "I died two times. First I died because my heart was sick. Then my mommy made me a vampire so I could forever stay with her. But then I did something bad to Mr. Finley and they punished me."

A horrible thought popped up in my head, how badly I wanted little Charlie to stay with me, and I quickly pushed the selfish thought away. I stopped walking and kneeled down in front of him. "Charlie..." Tears began to burn underneath my eyes and I briefly turned my face away from his. "When you see a bright light, promise me you won't hesitate. Promise me you will run into it." I stroked his soft hair and sniffed. "Please, promise me."

A drop rolled down his chubby cheek as he nodded. "I promise."

That evening I was alone again.

I stopped at one of the black lantern poles with double heads and curling arms – dating back to when the town was first founded – and closed my eyes as I sniffed the cool air. When I opened my eyes a tall figure dressed in a suit had appeared next to me, leaning against a lantern pole as he frowningly watched the Reverie.

"Clyde Thorpe," I muttered.

The wind blew his curls back and made the collar of his long black jacket flutter. He smelled fresh, the scent of vanilla with a pinch of lime, and a wave of desperation struck me because smelling him was all I could do. Clyde wouldn't show interest in anything that wouldn't be of use to him, I knew, and since the Reverie was closed, he could only be showing interest in the Watchers. I had only met him once before, arrogant little twat he was, and untouchable since he drove our economy, which is why Clyde showing interest in the Watchers frightened me.