The Dark One

Chapter One

He was beautiful. Normally, I wouldn't call a young man beautiful but I was willing to make an exception for this male. Unfortunately,  he was about to die.

He leaned against the wall of his shower, fully clothed. I sat on the toilet seat and watched him carefully. He took the sharp razor blade and held it up to his left arm. The arm in question was covered in previous cuts. He laid the blade against his skin and pressed inward before dragging the razor across his arm.

He had made a deep cut from the crease of his elbow all the way down to the wrist. It was a shame, really. A waste of perfect life. He made good grades and was popular. But of course, that didn't make up for the fact that he only had a mother that beat him regularly for a parent. It didn't make up for the fact that he never knew that being beat wasn't his fault.

Was it his fault that his mother drank? No. Was it his fault that his father left? No. Was it his fault that everyone thought he was perfect? Maybe. Was it his fault that he knew how to fake it so well that he fooled everyone? Yes. Was it his fault he didn't have the will to put the blade down? Probably.  Was it his fault that I was about to ease him into the afterlife? Only partially.

He was fading fast. They always did when they gave up early.

I uncrossed my legs and stepped lightly into the shower. Cold water rained down upon me as I reached out to the male. I lifted him up enough to set his head on my lap. He looked up at me, tears streaking his face. His lips moved, though no sound came out. I gently smoothed his hair down and hummed a little tune, rocking him gently as the light in his eyes faded completely.  I waited until he was pale, cold, and lifeless.

When he was completely gone, I set a black finger tip against his chest. I felt a stirring behind me and I set the body down. I stood and turned to the man. No scars marred his flesh and his skin was flush with fake life. Excitement danced in his eyes and he clasped his hands together, playfully almost. He smiled.

I frowned and sighed inwardly. I silently held out my hand and the fresh spirit grasped it almost hungrily. I felt a slight pull on my life force. I sighed again and pulled him along with me.

I crossed through the house, man in tow, and stepped out into the sunlight. Already, I could feel the pull of lost spirits calling out for help. I could hear their cries. I could feel their breath upon my skin. I could taste their fear. I could see the scars. I could smell the blood seeping from the wounds. It wasn't the most pleasant feeling ever.

I ignored the agonized voices and walked forward. I twisted and turned awkwardly before rolling my shoulders. I made sure no one was around and unfurled my soft, black, twelve foot wings.

I took a running start and jumped up, flapping reflexively to lift myself and the man higher into the sky.

We continued up until we were a good distance from the Earth. I stopped rising and just hovered there, getting ready to do what needed to be done to deliver this spirit to the judgment hall. I took a deep breath, pulled the man closer, and, with a single thought of prayer, I folded my wings and tipped over, plummeting toward the ground at dizzying speeds.
The wind whistled loudly in my overly sensitive ears. Distantly, I could hear an annoying sound: a dog barking, it seemed. Right as we neared the ground, there was a loud crack and a seam in time and space opened up beneath us, swallowing us whole before vanishing.

After a few seconds of swirling, inky, black darkness, a dim room came to shape around us. To the left, there was black. To the right, there was light. In front of us stood a grand throne polished to perfection. A man and a woman sat upon the mighty chair, an air of superiority floating about them.

I let go of the spirit and keeled down, head bowed, right hand fisted over my chest. The two great beings in front of me were not human, nor angel, or even demon. They were something more, though no one knew exactly what they were. Not even the lord knew for he was created by them himself.

I rose and backed away into the wall behind me. The wall gave way and I once again tipped over,  plummeting down to Earth's surface yet again.

The seam opened under my and spit me out into a city that had been abandoned for the most part. It was war ravaged and toxins danced in the air, threatening many human's lives.

I stepped into a nearby building and walked up the stairs, leaving the lobby and the first thirteen stories behind. At the fourteenth, I crossed the hall and entered a set of suits that was not at all damaged.

There were three couches in the living room along with five chairs and a long table.

Three of the chairs were occupied by vampires. A werewolf weighed down one of the couches. And splayed about on the table sleeping soundly was a demon. My demon.

His name was Gothan.  He had black hair, black nails, black skin, but blue eyes. He was six foot four and appropriately muscled. He was handsome, he was perfect, and he was mine.

I looked at the others. The vampires all had red eyes, coffee colored skin, and blond hair. They were triplets. The werewolf was heavily muscled, had dark brown, almost black long curly hair, pale skin, and warn brown eyes.

I plopped down on one of the free couches. The werewolf--Aluo,  looked up from his puzzle. "How was your work today, Arela?"

I glanced at him and smiled wearily. "Work was good."